


You Got Me There

by lovelyliterati



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Actor Shiro (Voltron), Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Keith (Voltron), Background Relationships, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Fluff and Angst, Gay Keith (Voltron), Insecure Lance (Voltron), Japanese Shiro (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Fluff, Korean Keith (Voltron), M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Keith/Lance (Voltron), Pining Shiro (Voltron), Slow Burn Keith/Lance (Voltron), Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), actor adam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2019-11-07 18:33:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 128,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17965865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelyliterati/pseuds/lovelyliterati
Summary: catfish (noun): a person who sets up a false personal profile on a social networking site for fraudulent or deceptive purposes.Keith Kogane hates the word, but apparently he is one.As teen heartthrob Takashi Shirogane’s social media manager, Keith has been pretending to be Shiro online for over a year now. He spends so much time tweeting as Shiro and tagging along with him to events that Shiro’s life has pretty much overtaken his. So when he accidentally messages super-fan Lance McClain as Shiro instead of himself, he doesn’t see much of a problem with it. Lance is attractive, popular, and much less likely to talk to Keith asKeith, anyway.But it turns out Lance is in L.A., too. And he suddenly keeps appearing in Keith’s life. When Lance eventually finds a permanent position as Keith’s dog sitter, Keith realizes he might actually have a shot with this guy...as himself. But that realization might have come too late: the catfishing mess he got himself in is much too big to hide.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> FINALLY! I have been working on this fic since December, and I finally have written enough to begin regular posts. 
> 
> I want just want to say now: I am an anti. Lance is Shiro's biggest fan in this, and as I was writing this, I realized some shaladins could read into it as such, especially when Keith is talking to Lance as Shiro. That is not my intention, Lance/Shiro will never be romantic even when Keith is talking to him as Shiro. Even though I have Lance repeat "Shiro's my hero" throughout the story, I wanted to make that clear.
> 
> With that out of the way, enjoy!

**TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 26**

Being _the_ Takashi Shirogane’s personal assistant and social media manager isn’t the greatest thing in the world. 

It involves 2 a.m. Taco Bell runs when Shiro is drunk, partially so Shiro doesn’t die, but mostly so Allura doesn’t kill Keith over a drunk driving scandal. He often has to wake Shiro up before sunrise for flights and events, listen to him complain about how interviewers always ask the same questions, and make his haircut and doctor appointments. Worst of all, he has to monitor what people say about him online, scrolling through tweet after repetitive tweet about Shiro. It wouldn’t be so bad, save for the fact that every day, another fan discovers that the word ‘shit’ can be found in his username, @takashitweets. 

But as Keith watches the Starbucks baristas sling fraps and make coffee, he knows he can’t complain much. He gets paid $2,500 a week to help his best friend out, while these unfortunate people are paid minimum wage to serve every snob in L.A.

It’s the type of job that Keith should have ended up with. When his mom kicked him out on his ass when he was 18, he by all means should have struggled to stay afloat. And if he hadn’t known Shiro, he would have.

“I have a Pink Drink for Keith,” one of the baristas says a little too loud for Keith’s liking, sliding the unappetizing drink onto the counter. As Keith looks up from his phone, he thinks he sees her holding back laughter, and he wants to make it clear that the drink is _not_ for him. But he has no time to talk.

Being Shiro’s personal assistant also involves doing occasional runs for Shiro’s manager, Allura, and getting her the worst drink on the Starbucks menu. That, he can and will complain about. 

Sure, okay, he’s drinking a chai. But at least he gets a shot of espresso. And nothing could be worse than coconut milk mixed with strawberry juice. He adds the cup to his tray of drinks with a huff and heads out to Shiro’s old, beat-up Toyota Camry.

Actually, he takes it back. The worst part of being Shiro’s assistant is having to drive this hand-me-down instead of his shiny, well-taken-care-of motorcycle on the days Allura asks him to pick up coffee.

Once he gets to the hotel room where WIRED is setting up for their interview, Keith runs right into Allura, nearly spilling the coffee on her. He holds his breath, tightening his grip on the tray. He is _not_ getting fired today, and he is _definitely_ not going to run back out to Starbucks.

“Oh, Keith, I’m so sorry,” she says, holding her hands out to steady him. She has her silver hair tied up in its usual puffy bun, and her pink pantsuit too obviously contrasts with Keith’s ripped jeans and sweatshirt. He glances at everyone milling about, doing their jobs, forever reminding him how out of place he is.

“Thank you, as always,” Allura says, taking her cup from the tray once he’s no longer at risk of dropping it. She turns on her heel, making a beeline for Shiro.

“Can’t you try something new?” Keith asks, following her. “Maybe a frappuccino? They make a strawberry one, you know.”

She always ignores his pleas, a knowing grin on her face. 

“Shiro is almost done with hair and makeup, and they’re going to start filming soon,” she says, taking a sip and obnoxiously sighing in delight. “So, hurry up with the coffee.”

Despite her horrible drink choice, Keith is grateful for Allura. For being a busy talent manager with multiple clients, she’s one of the kindest people Keith has met in Hollywood. She doesn’t make Keith feel small or superfluous like most do. But at the same time, she’s focused on her job and doesn’t expect Keith to be her friend. Never is Keith asked to partake in useless small talk or forced out of the bubble he prefers to keep himself in. 

That, he thinks, is the best part of his job. Well, that and the money. 

“Ahh, thank you, man!” Shiro says, once Keith hands him his caffè latte. He takes a long sip, and Keith thanks whatever god is out there that it doesn’t burn his friend’s tongue. “Seriously. Don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

“Fall asleep during every interview, probably,” Keith deadpans. He stands awkwardly beside Coran, Shiro’s stylist, while he runs gel through Shiro’s tuft of sleek, black hair.

“Yeah, I’d have lost my career by now if it weren’t for you,” Shiro says, grinning. “By the way, next time just get Allura a frap and say there was a mistake.”

“She’d kill me,” he says, glancing at Allura, who nods in agreement. She’s in the midst of checking emails on her phone.

“But it’d be for a good cause.”

“Ah, I’ve already tried to change Allura’s blasted ways,” Coran says as he puts the finishing touches on Shiro. He and Allura have known each other since they were kids, Keith learned as soon as he met them, and Allura recommends Coran for all of her clients. “That girl has the palate of a toddler, and the stubbornness to match!”

“ _Coran,_ ” Allura whines, just as a WIRED staff member, dressed in all black, approaches them. Keith has to hide his smile. 

“Ready?” the woman asks, and Shiro takes another long sip of his coffee. 

He clears his throat, blinking the tiredness from his eyes. He’s been awake since 6 a.m. – he had a photoshoot this morning, followed by an audition, before this. “Let’s do this.” He stands and easily puts on his heartthrob persona, crooked smile and all, as he follows her to the white backdrop.

Keith has never known how Shiro does it, smiling at everyone all the time. He works nonstop – auditioning, making TV and red-carpet appearances, photoshoots, all on top of actually acting – and he still manages to at least seem happy on a daily basis. 

Keith gets exhausted any time he tries to put on a happy front for over ten minutes, and all he does is buy coffee, sort through fan mail, and post tweets that make Shiro look good. 

He watches as Shiro settles into the chair, bright lights on him. He looks as natural as ever. Soon, the camera starts rolling, and Keith shoves his hands in his pockets. He still hasn’t gotten used to being around all this.

“Hi! I’m Takashi Shirogane from the CW’s _Kerberos_ , but you can just call me Shiro.” Big, flashy smile. A smile, as some fans would say, fit for a god. “And this is the WIRED Autocomplete Interview.”

Keith takes an unnecessary step back, awkwardly looking behind him to ensure he doesn’t trip on any cords. Another staff member, the one directing this whole thing, tells Shiro to comment on what he thinks might show up on Google’s autocomplete. A blush creeps up onto his face, but his smile never falters. 

Just over a year ago, Shiro made a YouTube video announcing his role on _Kerberos_. He built up to it on his social media, talking all about how he had something huge to share with his fans. In that same video, he came out to the world as gay. 

His fear over the public’s response to it was part of the reason he added running his social media to Keith’s job description. It’s not that Shiro is ashamed; he’s been out, privately, for years and was visibly relieved when the video went live. In the video itself, he says it happily – “My character in the show is gay, which is perfect because, well, so am I.” – and he looks right at the camera as he says it.

But he’s still getting used to the whole world looking at him, writing articles about him, and having opinions on who he is without actually knowing him. He hated reading what people had to say, especially when it came in real time as responses to his tweets or comments on his Instagram. The world often has a very different opinion than the ones who love you do. So, he turned the responsibility over to Keith. 

“I’m a little scared, actually,” Shiro chuckles his way through it, his voice barely breaking. This very well might be his first time ‘Googling’ himself in over a year, but Keith wouldn’t expect Shiro to handle it any differently. With a wink, Shiro adds, “I don’t want to give away too much about me.”

The staff member who first approached them hands him a small poster board; it has parts of Google autocomplete questions covered up for him to reveal. They’re starting with “Is Takashi Shirogane…” and Keith’s stomach rolls in anxious anticipation for Shiro. 

“’Is Shiro…’” he says, pulling off the white strip of paper covering the rest of the question, “…’gay?’” Of course, that would be the first one. Red creeps up Shiro’s neck again, but he still smiles, tilting his head. “Yes. As gay as they come.” 

Shiro continues, pulling the next off, and he gets even more agitated at this one. “’…Dating Adam from _Kerberos_?’” 

He shifts in his seat, clearing his throat, and Keith watches as Allura purses her lips, as if uncertain of the answer herself and waiting for confirmation. Keith just shakes his head. It would be obvious if they were – Shiro isn’t the best at keeping secrets, even his own.

“Nope, ah, no. Just in the show,” he says, and Allura is visibly relieved. 

“’…Chinese?’ Nope. 100% Japanese, ma’am.”

“’…In _Crazy Rich Asians_?’” His eyes crinkle at the sides from laughter. “I wish! I would have loved to work with anyone in that amazing cast.”

Keith’s eyes break away from the action, which is no longer flooding him with anticipation. He’s heard each of these questions in one form or the other, and in real life, it’s Allura’s job to make sure Shiro doesn’t say anything stupid.

He walks back over to Coran, who is busy packing up his hair and makeup products, and puts his earbuds in. He blocks out the sound of the interview and, with it, the feeling like he doesn’t belong.

In front of him are two perfect photo-ops for Twitter: Shiro’s Starbucks cup and the WIRED makeup chair. A small grin on his face, he opens up his phone’s camera. Cup in hand after pulling off his fingerless glove, he kneels down so the mirror isn’t in the photo and holds the cup up in front of the WIRED logo. 

As he snaps the photo, Coran says, loud enough so he can hear over the music, “Well, don’t you have an eye for that.”

He takes an earbud out. “Not really,” he says sheepishly, almost immediately putting his earbud back in. Coran grins at him and says no more, just continuing to wrap the cord around his straightening iron. 

Keith opens up Twitter, typing “super excited about this one, even if I’m also super tired” before attaching the photo and sending the tweet to 2 million followers. Not even a second passes before his notifications blow up with “yaaaaaas,” “what do you get at starbucks king,” and “AUTOCOMPLETE INTERVIEW????”

Keith laughs, liking the Starbucks question. As he clicks to reply, he almost types “chai with a shot,” but backspaces to write Shiro's truth: “caffè latte on a good day, cold brew if I lowkey wanna die.”

At first, the idea of tweeting as Shiro made Keith uneasy. He begged Shiro to take a hiatus or just delete his social media altogether – plenty of celebrities don’t have social media. But he (and Allura) insisted; he already had a strong following and he’d still want to post sometimes. He was just too busy to keep up with it, and he also didn’t want to sift through all of the bad comments to read the good ones anymore. 

The first few weeks of his new position ate away at Keith and he had a hard time sleeping, as embarrassing as it is to admit. Shiro’s shoes are a hard thing to fill, even digitally. Everything about him is just so objectively dreamy and _perfect_ , from his looks to his demeanor. 

Keith didn’t think he could live up to that, not really. He’s the complete opposite of Shiro, and he’s not a big fan of actively deceiving people. Especially when those people think the person talking is someone they idolize, when in fact, it’s just Keith. 

But it turns out fans of Kerberos are pretty smart, and they know ‘management’ plays some kind of a role in Shiro’s social media presence. As soon as Keith saw some theories about how to tell when it’s Shiro and when it’s someone else, he relaxed a little bit. It’s normal, it’s a thing that happens, and they know it.

When he was able to relax, he began to have fun with it. He takes photos from Shiro’s point of view and reads through tweets about Shiro, enjoying it almost as much as Shiro would. He tweets and writes captions easily, trusting that he knows Shiro well enough to do him justice.

When he feels out of place in situations like these, he’s able to escape himself, to become someone who belongs in a room in Hollywood while an interview is being filmed. He becomes a person who excels at their craft and has 2 million people who care about what they have to say, even if he’s not even close to being that person in real life. 

Keith sips his chai and starts to scroll through Shiro’s timeline, liking a few tweets talking about how much Shiro means to the fan that posted it or about how excited they are for season two of _Kerberos_ to start production.

He makes a point to scroll directly past the tweets describing how they want Shiro to punch them in the face, among other less safe for work desires. 

Then, he comes across a tweet from someone named Lance, his name typed in a script font. It’s a video with the caption “HAPPY (ALMOST) BIRTHDAY, TAKASHI! From over 100 of your fans, to you.” It’s been retweeted onto his timeline by someone whose name is ‘THANK YOU SHIRO!’ and it already has thousands of likes and retweets.

Clearly, the fans want Shiro to see this. 

When Keith clicks on the video, a song by Shiro’s favorite band, Moon Taxi, starts playing. Clips of him from season one and different interviews are spliced surprisingly well to the music, with birthday wishes from fans shown throughout.

It’s actually…impressively made. He can tell the fan spent hours on it, syncing the clips to the music and seamlessly transitioning to the birthday messages. They definitely didn’t use iMovie.

Without hesitation, he likes the tweet, and he bookmarks it to show Shiro on his actual birthday. And for good measure, because he knows exactly what Shiro will say, he replies, “omg thank you! I’m showing this to my mom,” and clicks onto the fan’s account to follow them. 

\--

 **Lance (@thesoftshiro):** if shiro is really doing the autocomplete interview im gonna shriek 

**Lance (@thesoftshiro):** except no shiro interview can top the buzzfeed one with the PUPPIES

 **Lance (@thesoftshiro):** speaking of puppies I think shiro’s hair looks as soft as a golden retrievers but we knew that already

“Pay attention, buddy,” Lance’s twin sister, Rachel, says as Lance narrowly steps out of the way of a display of Chips Ahoy cookies. She doesn’t stop pushing the cart, resting her elbows on the handle as she walks. “That’s the third thing you’ve almost run into.”

Lance walks quickly to keep up with her but never takes his eyes off his phone. “Shiro just tweeted,” he says, voice a pitch higher than normal.

She looks back at him, and he doesn’t have to look up to see that she’s trying not to seem annoyed. He’ll tell anyone and anything about Shiro if given the chance. “What’d he say?”

“He’s doing something with WIRED.” He can’t even try to wipe the smile off his face.

“And that means?”

“WIRED!” Lance finally looks up at his sister. “The Autocomplete Interview!”

“Oh,” Rachel says, and she looks forward again. “Well, come on. What were you planning to make for your turn on dinner this week?”

“Uhh, I don’t know,” Lance says absentmindedly, staring back down at his Twitter timeline. He nearly trips as Rachel turns into an aisle, not looking up as he follows her. “Probably spaghetti or something.”

He scrolls through tweet after tweet about Shiro, _Kerberos_ , and _Kerberos’s_ other cast members, which are far more entertaining than grocery shopping. He comes across his favorite photo of Shiro, posted by another fan account. It’s an old one Adam took of Shiro on set, where Shiro’s holding his nose up with his finger and sticking his tongue out.

Lance quote tweets it, adding the comment: “Can you believe this is the guy I stan”

His notifications are already at 20+ again, so he taps back into them. Lance has been in the Shiro fandom for years now, and he considers himself one of the OG fans. Everyone else does too, he’s sure. Most of his tweets get at least 50 retweets and 100 likes. _At least._

If it’s possible to be famous within a fandom for another famous person, that’s what he is.

Some of the notifications are for his most recent tweets, but most are for the birthday video he posted for Shiro last night – er, morning. Those are what he’s known for on Twitter, and sometimes they go a bit viral. No flex or anything.

As soon as Lance got home from work last night, he jumped into bed and started putting the final touches on the video. He couldn’t stop until it was done at 4 a.m., and although he knew he should post it in a few days, on Shiro’s birthday, he just had to post it right then. It’s his best edit yet.

And since then, it’s gotten 2,549 retweets and 10.5k likes. It started with all of the people who sent him birthday wishes for it retweeting it, and then it just took off from there. The only other video he’s made that’s done better is the edit of Shiro and Adam he did when their characters _finally_ got together at the end of season one.

“My video is nearing 3k retweets,” he tells Rachel, and this time she finally looks intrigued.

“Really? Holy shit!” she says. “You should really start filming your own videos to edit, you know.”

“Yeah,” Lance shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Rachel says, but Lance wrote that idea off last year. He barely has any time to edit footage that already exists, let alone shoot his own. Plus, he’s made it a point not to even post selfies on his account, so no one would care about any video he edits that doesn’t feature a _Kerberos_ star. 

He looks back down at his notifications, pulling down to refresh them. More and more retweets and likes come in. along with comments about how much Shiro needs to see it. All of the attention makes Lance giddy, and despite the voice in his brain telling him that it’s not possible, he thinks this might be what finally gets Shiro to notice him. 

“Anyway, I’m going to make stir fry,” he thinks he hears Rachel say as he refreshes his notifications again. “—split up?”

“Huh?” he asks, and he’s too distracted to stop Rachel from plucking his phone out of his hands. “Wh—”

She pockets his phone, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “I said I’m going to make stir fry, so let’s split up. Meet at the registers in 20?”

“How am I going to know when 20 minutes is up?” he asks, crossing his own arms to mimic her. 

“You’re Lance McClain, you can do anything.”

“Okay, true, but—” 

Before Lance can finish, Rachel is speeding away with his phone and the cart with all of their snacks. She’s rounds a corner quickly, and knowing her, she’s going to take detours to get him off her tail. 

Shiro hasn’t done a livestream in months, but Lance is prepared to fully blame Rachel if he misses one.

 

He ends up meeting her at the checkout 15 minutes too late, hands full of spaghetti, sauce, and ground meat. Even as they’re paying, Rachel refuses to give Lance his phone back. It isn’t until they’re in her car, bags of food in the trunk, that she places it in his hands.

“You’re lucky I didn’t get kidnapped,” he says as she backs out of the parking lot. “I could have died and had no way to contact you.”

“Don’t you always say you could take anyone who tried to fuck with you?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t _worry,_ ” Lance scoffs. His phone vibrates and lights up in his hands before he even gets a chance to unlock it.

“Those video notifications went off the whole time I was shopping,” Rachel says. “It was so annoying, I almost shut it off.”

“Serves you right.”

And that’s exactly what he’s expecting: likes and retweets from fans trying to help him, or just fans commending his work. That is until he sees that he has hundreds of missed messages from his group chat with his friends from high school, Hunk, Pidge, and Matt, and all of the other Twitter notifications include tweets in all caps, most with his name or some form of the word “congratulations” in them. 

Lance sits upright. If he wasn’t buckled into a car, he would fall over. As soon as he sees the first “congrats Lance!” he begins shaking, his eyes wide, and he scrolls as fast as he can through the notifications. 

He doesn’t want to get his hopes up too high before screaming: Adam and Romelle from _Kerberos_ already follow him, so one of them could’ve just liked his tweet. They’ve done it before.

And he could have easily just missed an in-depth conversation in his group chat about something stupid. That’s happened before too. 

But then he sees it, and his breath catches. “SHIRO followed you back!” “SHIRO replied to your tweet: omg thank you! I’m showing this to my mom” “SHIRO liked: HAPPY (ALMOST) BIRTHDAY TAKASHI…”

When Lance pictured this day, he really thought he would scream. But now that he sees it, the notifications staring back at him, he actually feels like crying. He might even feel a tear slip down his cheek. He wipes it away quickly and takes a screenshot of the notifications on his lock screen.

“R-Rachel,” he chokes, reaching over to slap her shoulder. He’s full-on crying now, and he nearly drops his phone. “Shirolikedmytweet, RACHEL!”

“Who did what now?”

“Shiro,” he takes a deep breath, sniffling. “Shiro liked my tweet. The video! And he followed me and-and said he was going to show his mom.”

Rachel has to slam on the breaks, almost rear-ending the Jeep in front of them at a red light. “Shiro? Like the actual Takashi Shirogane? Your hero, Shiro? The love of your—”

“YES!” He takes another deep breath, trying to contain himself. “Oh, my god.”

“That’s so fucking crazy.”

Listen, he loves _Kerberos._ It’s like _Riverdale_ but better written. Or _Gossip Girl_ but more diverse. He screamed when Adam and Romelle followed him, and when season one came out, he live-tweeted it every Tuesday night at 9. Now, he’s seen it four times. And in the very little free time he has, he makes video edits of the characters.

But even more than _Kerberos,_ he loves Shiro. He’s been following Shiro’s career since his tiny, yet amazing role in _Spider-Man: Homecoming._ A few years later, he jumped up and danced around when he found out Shiro was simply _nominated_ for an Oscar for Best Supporting Actor.

He’s been there since the beginning, watching as Shiro grew in popularity, learning everything there is to know about him. And over time, he became a motivating and inspiring force for Lance. 

Then last year, when he didn’t think he could love Shiro more, Shiro came out to the internet in a heartwarming YouTube video. Because of that, Lance began to come to terms with his bisexuality instead of completely avoiding it. 

So, he doesn’t just love Takashi Shirogane. He adores him. Yes, he’ll even admit, he’s pretty much obsessed with Shiro. Shiro means something to him in a way that Lance can’t even begin to describe.

And Shiro just liked, replied to, and followed Lance. Holy shit.

Lance pulls open his group chat to find that his friends have been talking about him for the last half hour.

**pidgeon (@shiroganes)**

> LANCE are you seein this??

**h (@kerberostrash)**

> he probably passed out again  
> he stayed up all night working on that thing

**matt holt (@mattholt)**

> [photo of dog peeing on bed]

**pidgeon (@shiroganes)**

> [photo of dog hanging onto tree for dear life]

**h (@kerberostrash)**

> lance please wake up theyre sending the dog memes again

**matt holt (@mattholt)**

> shiro just replied too  
> omg lance is gonna shit himself  
> ahahahha  
> mama shirogane is gonna see his work!!

**pidgeon (@shiroganes)**

> so the like wasn’t an accident  
> he definitely saw our birthday messages hunk!!!!!

**matt holt (@mattholt)**

> katie please stop yelling  
> omg he just followed him???

**h (@kerberostrash)**

> NO  
> HOLY SHIT

**pidgeon (@shiroganes)**

> WIG  
> It FLEW!

**matt holt (@mattholt)**

> lance has got to wake up

**pidgeon (@shiroganes)**

> does this mean we can add shiro to this gc

**h (@kerberostrash)**

> if we add shiro were adding romelle and adam too

**matt holt (@mattholt)**

> pls

The rest of the messages were just the three of them sending various emojis and “wake up lancey lance” in order to make his phone buzz like Rachel said it did. 

**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> Wait guys  
> Ive been awake I was at the store and  
> Rachel took  
> My phone she took my phone and hsiro followed me im and full on sobbing htanks  
> Omg  
> Help  
> I cant see

**h (@kerberostrash)**

> lance im so happy for you omg

**pidgeon (@shiroganes)**

> shiro obviously loves you and wants to marry you

**matt holt (@mattholt)**

> pidge is living vicariously through you  
> js

**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> he knows I exist im shaking

 

Lance stares at Shiro’s profile, seeing the ‘follows you’ but not believing his eyes. He’s wanted this for so damn long and was really starting to give up hope.

“Rachel, am I dreaming?” he asks, and she reaches over to pinch him. Hard.

“Ow! Okay.”

No, it’s real. Shiro saw his tweet. He saw his hours of work and he REPLIED.

Shit. He replied.

Lance clicks on ‘tweets and replies’ on Shiro’s profile, and it turns out Lance is still the last person he replied to. He types “I hope she likes it!! Thanks Shiro!” and lets out a breath.

This is really happening. After years of trying and believing it could happen, it finally did. Takashi Shirogane noticed him.

**h (@kerberostrash)**

> LanCE! You should do a face reveal now!

**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> Idk…  
> should i?

**matt holt (@mattholt)**

> YES  
> Show the world your face

**pidgeon (@shiroganes)**

> (and shiro)

**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> I mean  
> God that’s fucking terrifying  
> But I guess it’s only fair  
> To everyone who helped me

**h (@kerberostrash)**

> I fully support this!! 

Lance swallows down the lump forming in his throat.

He doesn’t know what it is about Shiro, but he consistently makes him want to do things he’s afraid of. He’s the reason Lance is here with his sister, in L.A., following his dreams of being a filmmaker. 

But if there’s anything Lance is afraid of, it’s showing his face on this hellsite.

It’s gotten to a point where he loves the anonymity. It’s safe and makes him feel at ease to be who he truly is. He’s pretty sure that anonymity is what allowed him to gain the following he has, and not a day goes by that he doesn’t wonder if anyone would still follow him if he showed his face. 

But now Shiro knows he exists – _him_ – and he saw Lance’s unabashed passion in the form of his Adobe Premiere skills. That, to Lance, is as vulnerable as showing his face, maybe more. And he _liked it._ So maybe doing a face reveal isn’t the worst idea in the world. 

He knows it’s going to take him days to take the perfect selfie, one that is worthy of gracing Shiro’s timeline. But in that moment, it seems like the best way to celebrate. Eventually, all 57,263 of his followers, who probably picture Shiro with a drawn-on cat face when they think of Lance, are going to know what he actually looks like. It’s scary and exciting all at once.

 

**THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 28**

Shiro and Keith have flung themselves on the couches in Shiro’s apartment, alcohol coursing through their veins. It’s not technically Shiro’s birthday, but his actual birthday only comes around once every four years, so they have to celebrate it sometime. The fans always pick today, so they have, too.

They usually spend it with a few of Shiro’s friends during the day, but by 7 p.m., they’re back at Shiro’s apartment and in their pajamas. It’s one of few days Shiro (and, thus, Keith) actually kind of has off.

Per tradition, today, they’ve played their annual drinking game. They scrolled through the search of Shiro’s name on twitter, looking through all of the birthday wishes sent from fans across the world. Every time they saw any form of the word “son” or “dad,” they’d take a drink of their wine. They ended up drinking a few bottles by the end of it. 

“How can I be their son _and_ their dad?” Shiro always asks by his fourth glass.

Now, their stomachs are full of alcohol and cake, and the walls are spinning. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” Shiro asks.

Keith, face down on a pillow, peaks at him. What a weird thing to say. “Um,” he mumbles into the pillow. “Sure.”

“I—” he barely starts before a series of hiccup-filled giggles. “Don’t tweet it!” 

Keith sits up, rubbing his eyes, and starts to laugh too. “I’m not going to tweet your secret, Takashi.”

“Breaking out the first name,” Shiro keeps giggling.

“Just tell me.”

“Okay,” he breathes out, containing his laughter. “I have a crush on Adam.”

“A crush,” Keith nods, a smile plastered on his face at the ridiculousness of it all. He feels like he’s at a seventh-grade sleepover party. “On your co-star. Is he a good kisser or something?”

He has to admit, he’s not exactly surprised. There were seven people at lunch today, but Keith is pretty sure Shiro only talked to Adam. And looked at Adam. Keith doesn’t know if Shiro was even aware other people were there.

“Well, yeah. But we’ve known that,” Shiro says. “I don’t know. It’s probably nothing.”

“Do you think Allura will be happy about that?” Keith asks, still smiling.

“After that fling with Curtis on the _Lineman_ set? Probably not,” Shiro says. Then, he stops and points lazily at nothing in particular before turning to Keith. “It could be pretty good PR though.”

Keith nods drunkenly fast. Shiro and Adam’s characters are dating in _Kerberos,_ and they’re basically the power couple of the entire show. Naturally, a lot of the fans ship them in real life, and Keith sees enough of the “Adashi” tweets to ship them a little bit himself.

They kiss all the time and have had some pretty emotional scenes. It only makes sense that one of them would eventually develop feelings for the other.

“Plus, you weren’t out when that stuff with Curtis happened,” Keith says. “And he was kind of a dick about it.”

Shiro grins. “You’re right,” he says. “Also, it’s not like Allura doesn’t blush whenever Romelle happens to brush by her. Which wouldn’t exactly be great if it ended poorly, either.”

“Ahh, so many gays,” Keith sighs, letting his head fall back down against the pillow. His stomach is warm, and everything still spins when he closes his eyes.

Shiro laughs way too much at this, then sighs. It’s silent between them for a moment, before Shiro asks, “I know my life is basically your life, but how have you been?”

“Huh?” Keith asks, opening his eyes. “Oh, fine.”

He knows exactly what Shiro’s asking, based on where in the conversation they just came from. Keith and Shiro have been out to each other for a long time, basically since they met. But unlike Shiro, Keith has a bit more trouble letting people in enough to know that he’s gay, or to date him, or anything of that nature. 

“Are you sure?” Shiro asks.

“Yeah, definitely.”

“I feel like I’m the only one you ever see,” Shiro’s voice gets softer. “You deserve to know people other than me, Keith. You deserve to go on dates and have friends.”

“I have Red.”

Shiro raises his eyebrows at him. “Your motorcycle can’t take you out on dates.”

“You underestimate him.”

“It’d just suck if you sabotaged your life forever,” Shiro says, and Keith takes the pillow out from under his head to cover his face again. “I’m just saying.”

Shiro is essentially Keith’s big brother. That’s how they met, anyway – in the Big Brother program when Keith was 11 and Shiro was 17. Keith was always getting into fights at school, snapping at kids for bumping into him or disagreeing with him. He never did his homework or made any effort in any area of his life. He was just too damn angry and bitter at nothing in particular. 

So, his mom, who had raised him alone for years after his dad died, enrolled him in the program. She thought maybe the source of his anger was the loss of his dad, and that a male role model could help him more than she could. Or maybe she was just tired of Keith – that’s the explanation Keith chooses to believe. 

He put up a fight at first, yelling at and trying to hit Shiro just like anyone else. But Shiro always stayed calm in the face of Keith’s fire. He never once reciprocated his anger or rose his voice, not like his mom did. He just let Keith be mad until he got tired.

And eventually he did get tired, and Shiro was still there to help him with his dumbass math homework. Then, weeks later, he was getting Keith to play soccer with him after school to get his anger out. And eventually it just became this thing where Shiro gives a shit and worries about Keith all the time.

Which, like, is fine. But sometimes it gets annoying. Like now, when Keith is drunk and doesn’t want to think about anything, let alone his problems.

“I could set you up with Curtis,” Shiro jokes, sensing Keith’s mood change. “I think I still have his number. He’s a nice guy.”

“Ugh, please don’t,” Keith says, tossing the pillow in Shiro’s direction but missing entirely. Then, to make it clear the conversation is over, he pulls out his phone.

A seamless transition, Shiro pulls his own out too and makes too much noise while squirming around in his seat. Keith turns to look at him just as he takes a selfie with his eyes crossed and his mouth in this weird tight, drunk smile, the front flash unnecessarily going off. “Thanks for all the birthday wishes,” Shiro slowly says as he types.

“As your social media manager, I won’t let you post that.”

“As your boss, I’m posting it,” Shiro says, and Keith makes no move to stop him. Shiro’s phone dings, and he gasps. “Ah! My mom watched the video!”

Yes, Keith showed him the video edit by that fan this morning, and Shiro reacted exactly how he thought he would. His eyes lit up at the sound of “Morocco” by Moon Taxi, and he watched through the entire three minutes in gleeful awe. Then, he sent it to his mom and proceeded to watch it several times throughout the day.

Shiro’s phone starts to buzz, and he stands, clearing his throat in an attempt to sound sober before he answers it. “Isn’t it great?” he says to his mom, his voice still a bit too high pitched.

He walks into the kitchen, mindlessly fiddling around with the drawers and cupboards, and continues the conversation there. Keith brings his attention back to his phone, opening his own Twitter.

He blinks heavily, trying to focus on the words on his screen, but it’s not very easy. Every so often, he’ll make out a funny tweet and laugh a little too hard at it, but most of the time he’ll just be able to focus on a few words. Most of what he sees, of course, is “Shiro,” “Shiro,” “Shiro.”

Keith follows too many fans, even on his own account. Shiro’s life is pretty much his life. 

He scrolls past Shiro’s dumb selfie, which already has over 20,000 retweets, and past all of the happy birthday wishes. Past all of the people complaining about some kind of celebrity drama. But then he stops on someone else’s selfie.

It’s a selfie that Keith, in that moment, would describe as, well, godlike. He’s tan, Hispanic, with a mess of brown hair and blue eyes. He’s got this tiny little grin, his cheeks flushed.

Maybe it’s the conversation he and Shiro just had, or maybe the alcohol is finally starting to wear off, but Keith can finally focus, 100%, 20/20, on that photo. And his stomach goes ‘whoosh.’ 

So, he does what he always does in situations like these: he likes the selfie and hopes for the best, while simultaneously hoping (and knowing) that nothing will ever come from it.

As he reads the guy’s name on twitter – HAPPY BDAY SHIROOOOO! – that latter part gets a little stronger. Yeah, he definitely follows way too many fans. At least they’re cute ones.

But then, Keith’s stomach does another somersault. Not even two minutes later, he gets a notification: _HAPPY BDAY SHIROOOOO! has sent you a message._

Okay. So. That has never happened before. 

**HAPPY BDAY SHIROOOOO! (@thesoftshiro)**

> so idk if you meant to like my selfie or if it was an accident but if it wasn’t I just wanted to let you know that I am free on friday and would like to hang out on friday when I am free

Keith chuckles, shaking his head. He has no idea what’s going on, so he clicks on the guy’s profile. Apparently, HAPPY BDAY SHIROOOOO! already follows him back. And right there, in his bio, it says, “21, bicon, would do anything to eat garlic knots with takashi shirogane.”

He ignores the last part and focuses in on the first two facts – the guy is Keith’s age and…well, Keith thinks he’s bi. That’s what that means, right? That’s not a typo for bitcoin? 

No, that wouldn’t make sense. 

**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> It was a good selfie

Keith makes a mental note to find where Steve Jobs is buried and kiss his gravestone – autocorrect is saving his ass right now. He mistypes almost every word, but somehow Apple knows exactly what he means.

**HAPPY BDAY SHIROOOOO! (@thesoftshiro)**

> I was a little scared to post it tbh

**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> Why?

**HAPPY BDAY SHIROOOOO! (@thesoftshiro)**

> Well it was my first time posting a selfie on here  
> Kind of like a face reveal thingy

**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> So before this no one knew what you looked like?  
> How does that work?

“Ah,” Shiro sighs as he plops back down on the couch. He hiccups before saying, “My mom says hi, by the way.”

Keith’s eyelids droop while he watches the typing bubble appear and disappear. He’s so tired, but so invested. He’s never talked this much to someone so cute – never allowed himself to even try – and he can’t believe the guy is still replying.

“Keith.”

“Huh?” he looks up. “Oh, yeah. Tell her I said hey, and that I miss her.”

**HAPPY BDAY SHIROOOOO! (@thesoftshiro)**

> It’s the internet u can be anything

**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> Fair enough

**HAPPY BDAY SHIROOOOO! (@thesoftshiro)**

> idk I guess I just…I liked being sort of invisible  
> it’s kinda cool not to entirely be yourself sometimes

**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> But who are you if you’re not yourself

Keith honestly has no clue what he’s saying, but he thinks it makes sense. He can’t tell if it’s his nerves, his sleepiness, or the alcohol that is making his brain feel so much like mush.

“I think I’m going to go to sleep,” he tells Shiro around a yawn. Shiro, his own eyes drooping, nods.

“First table read tomorrow,” he says.

“I’m the one that’s supposed to be reminding you, Takashi.”

“Twice in one night!”

Keith rolls his eyes, “Table read tomorrow, _Shiro._ ”

Shiro gets up to get a glass of water, saluting Keith on his way there. “See you then.”

Keith taps his pockets to make sure he has everything before heading out of Shiro’s apartment. The two of them really should just live together, considering they see each other all of the time. But Keith loves having his own space, even if it’s just down the hall. His apartment, along with his husky Kosmo and his motorcycle, are the only things that are really his. 

He keeps his eyes on his phone as he walks.

**HAPPY BDAY SHIROOOOO! (@thesoftshiro)**

> That’s deep af

**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> I’m actually pretty intoxicated so obviously that’s making me smarter

 **HAPPY BDAY SHIROOOOO! (@thesoftshiro)**  
> Hahah  
> How was your day?

Keith trips a little and stops in the middle of the hallway, staring at his phone. He tries to think of the last time someone that wasn’t Shiro asked him that. Honestly, he spends so much time with Shiro, it’s probably been a while since even _he_ asked it.

He keeps walking, shaking his head and pulling his keys from his pocket as he types.

**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> Pretty good actually, went to lunch with my best friend, then went back and had lots of cake and wine

**HAPPY BDAY SHIROOOOO! (@thesoftshiro)**

> Cake sounds so good right now  
> Have u drank water?? Make sure you wash your face before bed!

Keith slides his phone into his pocket so he can unlock the door to his apartment. Ugh, his messy apartment he hasn’t cleaned in weeks. Still, even with that thought, he has a permanent smile on his face that he can’t help.

He kicks his shoes off and drags his feet across the linoleum, not bothering to turn the lights on until he gets to his room. Kosmo is curled up on his unmade bed.

“Shit,” he says, and Kosmo lifts his head. “Are you hungry?”

Kosmo immediately jumps up and scampers into the kitchen. Keith had remembered to take him out when they got back from lunch but feeding him completely slipped his mind. 

He opens up his phone as he follows the dog down the hallway.

**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> I literally have never washed my face before bed in my life  
> But you’re right I should probably drink water

**HAPPY BDAY SHIROOOOO! (@thesoftshiro)**

> NO WAY don’t you have a six step skin care routin wtf  
> Routine**  
> Also UGHHH now you’ve made me crave cake

Keith chuckles, filling up Kosmo’s dish with food before getting himself a glass of water. Kosmo has to whine over his own water dish before he remembers fills up that too. For now, he’ll blame it on his intoxication. 

**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> It was just grocery store cake  
> No should I?? you seem knowledgeable

**HAPPY BDAY SHIROOOOO! (@thesoftshiro)**

> That’s arguably the BEST KIND OF CAKE  
> And YES!!!!! You should omg the fact that you even have to ask dude…  
> Fuck this is crazy  
> ive always wanted to talk to you like this

Keith blinks. Him? 

**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> Me???

This cute guy has wanted to talk to him. Like he’s just been waiting for a reason to DM him or something.

Kosmo follows him back to his room, and Keith tosses his phone onto his bed before lazily changing out of his jeans and into pajama pants. He doesn’t have the energy to change out of his shirt. He just wants to get in bed and keep talking to this boy until he falls asleep. 

But once he flops down under the covers, he’s wide awake, and he has an immediate revelation. It’s like being in his own space has cleared his head and sobered him up.

He nearly drops his phone as he fumbles to unlock it, and he leaves his conversation with guy-he-still-doesn’t-know-the-name-of to return to his Twitter timeline.

Sure enough, at the top, left-hand corner, it’s Shiro’s icon. He’s been on Shiro’s account this whole time.

To make matters worse, another notification banner slides across the screen to show that the guy has replied.

**HAPPY BDAY SHIROOOOO! (@thesoftshiro)**

> Yes! You!  
> Sorry ugh I don’t mean to fanboy or anything I just  
> Ive looked up to you for so long  
> And I’m really glad you had a good birthday

Keith’s phone clicks as he locks it again, and he stares off at the blank, white wall opposite him. No wonder this guy’s been replying so quickly, so excited to talk to him.

He thought he was talking to Shiro.

A bitter taste fills Keith’s mouth. He drops his phone, throws the covers off of him, and runs straight to the bathroom to throw up.

\--

Lance can’t sleep, and it’s all Shiro’s fault. He’s interacted with him more in the last week than he ever dreamed of, and his entire body is jittering.

Right as he was about to go to bed, late like usual, Shiro liked his tweet. Then he just stayed awake, somehow talking to him, and now he can’t stop thinking about it.

They had a _whole conversation!_ The only times that’s happened with Takashi Shirogane have been in his dreams, while reading self-insert fics, and that one time Shiro’s character on _Kerberos_ kept being stupid and Lance yelled at the TV. 

He woke Rachel up as soon as Shiro replied to his DM. He just couldn’t contain himself, and he gave her a play-by-play of the interaction while she lied in her bed in their shared room and tried to keep her eyes open. 

And now, despite the fact that they both have to be awake early tomorrow, they’re sat in the kitchen of their apartment, sipping on tea.

“Are you seriously sure it’s even him?” Rachel asks.

Lance woke her up partially because it’s already 4 a.m. on the East Coast and all of his friends are asleep, but also because he’s nervous to tell them about it. He knows as soon as they find out Shiro could actually reply, they’ll want him to add Shiro to the group chat, and he just wants to keep this special and between them.

But now he wants to tell literally anyone else, because Rachel is being insufferable. This is the third time she’s asked this. 

“Yes, Rachel. _No seas estúpida._ God,” Lance says. She looks up at him over her cup of tea, eyes narrowed. “It’s his verified account!”

“Okay, okay,” she says, setting her cup down. “As long as he’s not going to ask you for money or something.”

“Do I look like I have money to give him?”

“You’d give Takashi Shirogane your last dollar.”

“Okay, whatever,” Lance kicks Rachel’s foot under the table and sips on his tea. It’s a green tea blend with candy pieces in it – the closest thing he could get to cake at this hour. “It’s definitely Shiro.”

Rachel still has an uncertain look on her face, and Lance can see right through her. It isn’t any kind of secret that she worries about her twin brother more often than not.

What’s more of a secret – to everyone but Rachel – is that this apartment was supposed to belong to Lance and his ex-girlfriend Nyma. Well, kind of. He was so excited to move out of the dorms at LMU and into his own place, and they’d planned to do it together.

But Lance figures she wasn’t actually planning along with him, because she broke up with him before they could sign the lease together. She was overwhelmed by all of his obsessions – _Kerberos,_ tea, filmmaking – and he was so excited about everything all the time, she claimed, that she just couldn’t handle it anymore. He was too much, too obnoxious.

So, he cried. And cried and cried. He’d heard that before, from literally everyone in his life. “Chill out, Lance.” But he thought Nyma was different.

Rachel swooped in and decided to fill her place at the apartment when they were figuring out housing for this year. There was no way she’d let Lance live in a dorm again just because of Nyma, she’d told him. 

Since then, she’s been more protective than usual, especially when Lance jumped right back into the dating pool only a few months after the breakup. He’ll admit, he’s been a tad girl and guy crazy as of late and has only gotten himself more hurt in the process.

He’ll go into it claiming even to himself that he isn’t looking for anything serious, but then he’ll fall in love with the girl’s eyes or the guy’s sense of humor. Then, after a one-night stand with them, he ends up heartbroken. 

She must think he wants to date Shiro and assumes it’s going somewhere now that he’s talked to him. Yeah, right. Not even he can fool himself into thinking that could happen.

And even if that was a possibility, he’s sick of getting heartbroken. He’d rather not get his heart torn to shreds by his hero, thank you very much.

“I don’t think Shiro sees me as anything more than a fan, Rach,” he assures her, and she raises her eyebrow at him. “I’m serious! I’m just excited to be talking to him.”

“Just,” she sighs, closing her eyes. “Don’t expect him to keep talking to you or anything. You know he’s super busy.”

Lance sinks in his seat, taking another sip of his own tea.

“I’m just saying, he has a lot of fans trying to talk to him on there and he honestly probably works way more than he should,” Rachel says, worry lines creasing her forehead. “Didn’t you say today was the only day he lets himself have off? _If_ his schedule allows it?” 

“Still,” he says, sitting back up. “He talked to me. Can’t I be happy about that?” 

“Of course,” Rachel looks down. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to put it like that.”

“It’s fine,” Lance says, and then he perks up. “I can’t believe he said it was a good selfie! And that I seem knowledgeable. _Knowledgeable._ I didn’t know that was a compliment I wanted to hear until now.”

“I can’t believe it either,” she laughs. “But you are knowledgeable. In a lot of things.”

“Yeah, it’s not the same when you say it,” he says, causing her to giggle more.

The two sit there for a moment, Lance reveling in the moment yet again and his sister probably continuing to worry about him. She’s stopped laughing now and is staring down at her mug, biting her lip.

As she finishes her tea, Rachel stands from her seat. “Okay, time for bed,” she says, taking Lance’s cup from him. He groans, trying to snatch it back from her. He wasn’t done. “Don’t you have an 8 a.m.?”

“Who cares about production sound theory when Takashi Shirogane knows you exist?”

Rachel gives him another look and he rolls his eyes.

“I’ll go to class,” he says, standing too.

He’s still not tired, and he’s definitely skipping class tomorrow. Especially now that he’s decided he’s going to have to tell Hunk, Pidge, and Matt. This just isn’t something he can keep from them, or anyone, for long.

He’ll probably tell every person he sees tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Keith decides it's worth it and Lance begins to struggle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally JUST discovered I could format stuff on here with rich text instead of html so if there's any html left over on there pls let me know thank u 
> 
> Thank you all for your support on the first chapter!! I've been working on this fic since December so it means a lot :) I hope 2 weeks isn't too long to wait in between updates.

**MONDAY, MARCH 1**

The sun has hardly even risen when Keith wakes up the next morning. Hangovers have a way of waking him up super early and while he usually goes right back to sleep, today he needs some time to process what happened the night before.

 In what world would he have automatically been on his own Twitter account? He wants to punch Drunk Keith in the face.

And yet, he can’t stop thinking about the guy he kind of, sort of catfished. He walks Kosmo around the block before returning home and pulling his hair back to do the dishes, all while remembering the cute dimples and dark skin of someone he still doesn’t know the name of.

It’s not even entirely about how cute he is!

It’s the question _how was your day?_ and the feeling Keith got when he thought it was meant for him. There’s this part of him that can’t get that feeling out of his head. He wants to hold onto it, to pretend it really was meant for him.

Now he wants to punch Sober Keith in the face, for not being able to stop thinking about last night. Just because the guy gave Drunk Keith butterflies and _seemed_ to care about how Keith’s day went does not make him special. There are other nice, cute guys in the world, he knows that.

He just wishes he could talk to them without shutting down and running away.

His hand, covered in soap water, runs down his face as he groans. That’s the kicker: he actually had a full-on conversation with an attractive guy for once in his life.

As Shiro.

But he didn’t realize he was talking as Shiro when it was happening. He thought he was himself. And he didn’t shut down. He didn’t run away. Maybe that’s what makes ‘HAPPY BDAY SHIROOOOO!’ special.

 _Now would be a great time to have more than one friend_ , Keith thinks to himself. Who is he going to talk to about this? Allura? She’d fire him for sure.

Maybe Shiro was right, he does need more people in his life. But they don’t need to be cute people. Nope. 

He has to let this go and never let it happen again. It was just a drunken mistake and further proof that Keith shouldn’t ever dabble in romance.

The good thing is that Keith can’t remember the guy’s username, and by now, dozens of DMs have probably piled into Shiro’s inbox. It _won’t_ happen again.

“Kosmo,” Keith sighs, grabbing his keys from the counter. Kosmo curls up in a ball on the couch. “I’m a mess.”

 Kosmo looks at him for a moment before closing his eyes, probably annoyed that Keith woke him up so early. Keith fights the urge to lie down and close his eyes himself.

But Shiro will be waking up soon, and he should do a coffee run. Shiro’s hangovers are severe, and he’ll ask for coffee anyway. Plus, caffeine will help the migraine Keith has going on too. Maybe he’ll even grab some donuts.

As he waits in line at Starbucks, he opens up Twitter (because it’s _his job_ ), and sure enough, he’s still on Shiro’s account. The last time he was on his own account was probably two weeks ago.  _Idiot._

“Birthday hangovers are no bueno :( need coffee fed to me via IV stat,” he types, presses send, and immediately locks his phone.

He tries and tries to stop himself, unlocking and relocking his phone. But he can’t help himself – he’s lasted all of an hour. Right before he orders, he finds himself looking through Shiro’s likes to find the blue-eyed boy with nice teeth.

He only has to scroll through a couple of tweets, which Shiro must have drunkenly liked before going to bed, before he finds it. And yep, the photo of the boy, with his freckles and smooth, tan skin, makes him melt just as much as it did last night.

Keith sighs, locking his phone yet again. He really thought a guy like that wanted to talk to him. He knew alcohol made him stupid, but really?

After ordering his drinks, Keith is forced to wait some more, and waiting causes thoughts of cute guys. He thought he had more self-control than this. Just to make things worse for himself, he scrolls through the comments on the photo. 

 **Aimé (@takashit):** SHIRO LIKED OMG LANCE

 **paige (@romellaella):** its official shiro is in love with lance

 **Sabrina (@kerberdale):** TAKASHI LIKED THIS all of our likes are invalid now

 **Adam’s gay son (@cuteadashi):** laaaance I knew you were cute I just knew it and shiro knows it now too

He starts to scroll through Lance’s account, then. He has the same bio as yesterday, but Keith can’t quite as easily look over the fact that it says “would do anything to eat garlic knots with takashi shirogane” as he could when he was wine drunk.

His pinned tweet is all too familiar to Keith, too. “HAPPY (ALMOST) BIRTHDAY, TAKASHI! From over 100 of your fans, to you.” The video. The fucking video.

“Ugh,” Keith lets his eyes flutter closed. This couldn’t be any more of a disaster. It’s not just a casual fan who changed his name to wish Shiro a happy birthday. Of course, it would be the same exact guy who spent hours making that birthday video for Keith’s almost-perfect best friend. Who else would it have been? Anyone else? Nope!

He clicks on the DM button to the right of Lance’s icon to scroll through their conversation. If he was this dumb last night, he probably said something equally as stupid.

He doesn’t have to scroll too far before he’s rolling his eyes. Asking how his day went was one thing, but he actually thought Lance cared if he drank water and _washed his face._ Plus, he should’ve caught on sooner. Shiro _does_ have a six-step skin care routine, which he revealed in an interview with _Teen Vogue_ last spring.

He barely gets a second to revel in his own idiocy before his phone pings with a text from Shiro.

**Boss Baby:**

> Ugh

> Are you awake?

> Please tell me you’re awake

 

**Keith:**

> Need ibuprofen?

> Table read in two hours

 

**Boss Baby:**

> DON’T REMIND ME

> Water coffee and ibuprofen

> And please if you’re so so kind

> Come and pick out my outfit.. you won’t think about adam while you do it

 

**Keith:**

> you’re so needy

> But sure since its what you pay me for

 

So he won’t be getting donuts after all. And he’ll have to put his embarrassment over Lance to the side and pretend none of this ever happened.

“Keith?” The voice makes him look up from his phone. The barista. His order. Right. She smirks at him – the same barista who laughed about the Pink Drink – as she pushes the two cups further out onto the counter. “Your order.”

He looks down at them. He must not have heard her call his name the first time.

“Thanks, er—” He squints at her nametag, which is written in cursive. “Rachel. Do you think I could get a couple trenti waters, too?”

 “Sure,” she smiles, and he can tell it’s tired and forced. God, he’s glad he has Shiro and doesn’t have to do that shit.

Keith grabs his order, which now includes two waters in a cardboard carrying tray, and runs back to his apartment to get ibuprofen. Kosmo lifts his head, excited that Keith is back already, but he leaves again with a small pat between Kosmo’s ears.

He hears Shiro grumbling to himself as soon as he lets himself into Shiro’s much neater apartment. Keith makes a mental note to consider hiring the same maid for his own living space.

That was fast,” Shiro says breathlessly from his room, and his eyes light up when he sees all of the gifts Keith comes bearing. He takes a water and the bottle of pills, and with two ibuprofens in his mouth, he mumbles, “I’m a mess.”

“You and me both.” Keith surveys the room as Shiro exchanges his water for coffee, and he takes in the pile of shirts strewn across his bed. “So, what’s going on here?”

He only just now realized Shiro is shirtless, standing only in his black jeans. Keith’s mind runs through the ways he could possibly treat a coffee burn if Shiro should spill. They don’t have time for a run to the emergency room. But if he burnt himself, Allura wouldn’t be super mad about him being late to the table read.

“So, it might be my headache,” Shiro says, snapping Keith back to reality. “But everything looks horrible.”

Keith walks over to his closet, unhooks a black t-shirt – Shiro’s staple – and hands it to him. Adam has seen him in it dozens of times, and if he thinks he looks bad in it, seeing him in it again isn’t going to change his opinion much.

“You think?” Shiro asks. “Is it too bland?”

_"Shiro.”_

“I appreciate everything you do for me,” Shiro says, his voice muffled as he pulls the shirt over his head. “And I’m sorry for being lame there for a sec. Definitely the headache.”

This is what he gets paid $2,500 a week to do. Well, that and catfish fans apparently. God, he’s an idiot.

“You were kind of being That Celebrity for a second,” Keith says. “But what you wear today isn’t going to change Adam’s opinion of you.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Shiro says, running his hand through his hair. “Want to get breakfast? I’m starving.”

“IHOP?” Keith asks.

“IHOP.”

        

“I can’t wait to film.” Shiro says, cutting into his pancakes. “I talked to Lotor and Romelle, and they’ve got their lines memorized already too.”

“Isn’t—” Keith looks up from his eggs. “Aren’t you guys starting to film in a few days?”

He should know this. He _does_ know this. But that’s the nicest way of reminding Shiro of it without sounding like too much of a dick.

Shiro gives him a mix between an embarrassed and a stop-being-a-smart-ass look. “Yes.”

“You need to focus,” Keith says. “What was that thing you told me in high school?”

“Patience yields focus,” Shiro says, sighing at him. “I am focused. A very focused guy. That’s why I can’t wait to film.”

“You had a breakdown over a shirt.”

Shiro gives him another look. “Okay, I told you that was because of my—”

“Let me guess,” Keith points his fork at Shiro. “You’re excited to film because you’re excited to kiss your costar again.”

“I am very serious about my job,” Shiro says, his nose twitching as he holds back a smile. “But yes.”

“FIRST TABLE READ OF SEASON TWO BABY!” Keith’s attention is brought to the door of the restaurant, which Romelle has just kicked open. Lotor and Ezor follow behind her as she does a little dance in the doorway, much to their and Shiro’s amusement.

“Oh, yeah,” Shiro says. “I invited them.”

Keith sinks in his seat. It’s one thing to go out in public with Shiro, but now he has to make sure there’s not a ton of attention on the four of them, and he’ll have to help all of them if a ton of fans start to show up.

“Are we talking about season two?” Romelle slides into the booth next to Keith. She’s also one of those people who always has a smile on her face no matter what. “I’m so excited.”

“Yeah, I heard,” Keith says, poking his head out of the booth to see how much attention they’ve drawn. Luckily, not many people are at IHOP today.

“They’re probably talking about Shiro’s obvious crush on Adam,” Lotor says, sliding in next to Shiro.

Ezor slides in beside him. “Oh, so that steamy scene in the first episode?”

“I will fight both of you,” Shiro says, but he’s laughing. Keith so badly wants to beg them to keep it down, but it’s not his place. These guys have tens of millions of followers combined online, and probably more in each of their bank accounts.

They start talking about the opening scene, where Shiro and Lotor’s characters get into a fight or something. Keith can barely hear them, because as soon as they start talking, his phone lights up with a DM. And all he can focus on are the words “Lance has sent you a message.”

He tries to ignore it, and he quietly curses Twitter for sending him the notification in the first place.

With his eyes on Shiro’s phone, which is face-up on the table, he bargains with the universe. If Shiro gets the same notification, he won’t reply. If the notification never comes, he will.

Keith only ever believes in fate when it will solve his problems.

Of course, Shiro never gets the notification. Keith knows he has all of his Twitter notifications turned off. So, with a mix of giddiness and guilt, Keith picks up his phone and reads the message.

**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

 > I was awake way too late talking to you, I almost fell asleep in my class this morning 

  
Keith hesitates, his fingers over the keypad. He shouldn’t reply. Not as Shiro anyway. But something is tugging on his heart, pulling him to talk to Lance.

Lance. The fan. The fan with the nice name and nice face who, based on last night’s conversation, is funny and caring.

**  
SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> Heh sorry

> What class?

   
**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> Production sound theory [sleepy emoji]

> Who even has class at 8 am anyway??

> My professor doesn’t even want to be there!

 

**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> So glad I never had to go to college  
  
  
It’s not a lie, Keith tells himself. So long as he doesn’t outright lie to Lance and blatantly pretends to be Shiro, it’s fine.

Even then, that can’t be that bad. He’s been pretending to be Shiro for almost a year now, and Shiro’s the one that _told_ him to do it. This is…totally fine.

Totally.

Lance takes a minute to reply, and Keith stares at his phone the whole time, muttering “yeah” and smiling at everyone when necessary. If anything, he can say Allura is texting him.  


**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> It’s making me want to drop out

> I love my major but uh idk everything kind of sucks  


**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> Why? Too many 8 am classes?  


**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> Too many everything dude

> I have class and homework and I bartend at night which is only cool sometimes

> I never have any time to be home or do what I want to do  


**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> I get that

  
He only snaps out of his daze as Shiro taps him on the arm, forcing him to look back up at him. “Will you take the pic?” His voice goes back into focus.

Beside him stands a young Japanese girl, probably 13 or 14, smiling wide. A fan, of course. They’re in public. Where there’s fans. Keith blinks back to reality.

“Oh, yeah,” he says, taking the girl’s phone from her. “Uh, sure.”

Everyone but Keith leaves the booth, huddling around the girl. Ezor wraps her arm around her, and Lotor crosses his arms and cocks his head like his character does so often in the show. Keith does his duty of taking several photos, even some as they hug.

“Thank you so much!” the fan says, and she looks like she could cry.

“I love that phone case,” Shiro tells her, much to her excitement, as he slides back into the booth. Keith sneaks a look before handing it back to her – of course, it’s the cast of Kerberos from the season one photoshoot, all making funny faces.

“Yes, it’s super cute!” Romelle says, hugging the girl one last time.

Keith puts on a tight smile, thoughts still on Lance. He wonders if Shiro is on Lance’s phone case and how weird it would be for him to have a crush on someone with Kerberos merch.

“Just don’t post it anywhere for a couple hours,” Keith recites the script he learned from Allura over a year ago. “We don’t want too many fans showing up here. They all have somewhere to be soon.”

“Oh, for sure!” she says, still giddy. She’s breathless as she says bye to them all before running back to the table her parents are seated at.

“Nice to meet you!” Shiro calls after her. Then, his tone hushed, he says to Keith, “I’ll never get over that. Can you believe we’re on her phone case?”

“Next thing you know, someone will have a tattoo of your face,” Keith deadpans, but then his face drops. What if Lance has a tattoo of Shiro’s face?

This is stupid.

“I’ve written tattoos out for people before,” Shiro says.

“Me too,” Romelle says, “One was of something I said in season one.”

What if Lance was one of those people? Could Keith possibly sleep with – He stops his train of thought, mentally slapping his brain for going that far. Lance probably doesn’t even live in L.A.

Just as he gets himself to stop thinking about him, he gets another DM notification. This time, Shiro curiously peaks over the table to look at it.

Keith picks his phone up before he or anyone else can read it.

“Allura keeps bugging me about making sure you’re at the table read on time,” Keith says. He had that lie ready to roll off his tongue any second.

Shiro smiles. “She knows how hard we go on my birthday.”

“Yeah, I’m mad I wasn’t invited to that alcohol fest,” Lotor says. “Who has lunch with their friends on their birthday and then gets drunk by themselves?”

Keith makes a show of checking his watch, tapping at its face and looking around the restaurant. “Are you guys going to order? We don’t have a lot of time.”

“Yes, I’m starving,” Ezor groans, and Romelle nods in agreement.

“They’ll have food at the studio,” Lotor says.

“Will they have pancakes?” Romelle asks. “Not likely!”

Keith lets out a nervous laugh as he flags the waitress down. He makes a pact with himself not to check his phone again until they’re all distracted by the table read. God, he is in deep shit.  


The room at the studio is lit with fluorescent lights, and half of the cast is already seated at the circle of tables. They’re chattering away, and Keith silently begs Shiro to tell him he can go home.

All he has to do is make sure Shiro gets here on time, and the rest is up to Shiro. He couldn’t possibly need anything else – he’s full of coffee and pancakes, and the studio provides them all with water and snacks. Keith just has to make sure he doesn’t want him to run home to get him a sweater or something, which he’s done before.

As soon as they walk in, Adam, with his dark skin, glasses, and floppy hair, stands up from his seat. He holds his phone up, showing a selfie Lotor took with Shiro, Ezor, and Romelle at IHOP. “What, no invite?”

Keith turns to Shiro, whose cheeks are flushed pink.

“I tried to call you,” Shiro says sheepishly, but Keith has no doubt in his mind that Shiro was too nervous to call Adam.

“I was at the gym with my phone turned up to the highest volume,” Adam says, teasing. “I didn’t get any calls.”

“Okay, maybe I forgot.”

“Maybe you forgot?” Adam approaches him slowly, and Shiro shrugs, a smile playing on his lips. Adam places a hand on Shiro’s shoulder, jumping up on his back and ruffling up his hair. His voice light, he says, “How could you forget about me?”

He didn’t, Adam. He really didn’t. He couldn’t decide what to wear this morning because of you. He certainly did not forget you existed.

Keith takes a step back away from them, staring at his shoes. Romelle places a hand on the small of his back as she steps past him, and when he looks up at her, her eyes are full of mischief.

“I don’t know what you believe, but I think they’re in love,” she whispers to him before going to find her seat. He smiles because he doesn’t know what else to do.

“Er, Shiro,” Keith says, once Adam is no longer pouncing on him and the two are talking like normal humans. His friend’s eyes are bright and happy when he looks at him. “Do you need me here?”

“No, but—oh!” Shiro says, pinching the bridge of his nose as he thinks. “My rent and phone bills are due today. You’ll make sure those get paid, right? All the info is on the kitchen counter in my apartment.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Keith says, “no problem.”

“And I kind of need groceries.”

“Just the usual stuff?”

“Uh huh. And Oreos, please,” Shiro says, taking out his wallet to give Keith his card. He takes it easily, used to this process, and heads out.

The silence of Shiro’s apartment is welcoming as Keith steps into it, and the sole echo of his keys jingling is music to his ears. He revels in the time he gets to be by himself and not surrounded by Hollywood people, which is less often than most assistants. He runs errands for Shiro, sure, but most of the time Shiro likes having him around and asks him to stay.

Keith had to fight with himself throughout the entire meal at IHOP not to check his phone in front of everybody. Now, he can finally pull it out and answer Lance.

He settles into Shiro’s couch with his phone and rent bills in front of him, opening Twitter, when guilt overcomes him again.

Maybe he shouldn’t do this. It’s – it’s sort of the epitome of why he was so against running Shiro’s social media in the first place.

With a sigh, he switches accounts and is on his own for the first time in weeks. He types ‘thesoftshiro’ into the search bar, and the first thing his eyes settle on when he’s on Lance’s profile is the complete lack of the words ‘follows you’ beside his name.

He hovers his finger over the follow button, but he can’t do it. He falls back into the couch cushions, scrunching his face up, hair falling in his face. Lance loves Shiro, not him. He doesn’t want to talk to Keith Kogane.

And just like that, he’s back on Shiro’s account.

He paces back and forth across the living room like he’s in a damn movie or something, trying to reason with himself. Lance doesn’t really _know_ enough about Shiro to love him. If anything, all he knows of Shiro is what _Keith_ posts.

By talking to Keith, he’s technically talking to Shiro anyway.

It’s fine. This is fine.

He’s not going to worry about it anymore.

He sits back down, decision made. But he hasn’t even opened Twitter back up before he realizes. Shiro wouldn’t be able to answer Lance right now. He’s far too busy practicing his lines for season two, episode one, and making sure they fit in well with everyone else’s. 

And if Keith is going to keep talking to Lance as Shiro, he has to at least make it a little believable. And part of making it believable, he guesses, is not talking to him.

This is perfect. He won’t talk to him _too_ much, so it won’t be bad. It’ll be just like tweeting.

He puts his phone screen-side down on Shiro’s coffee table, contented. This gives him more time to think about it, too. Not make any rash decisions.

He’ll put all his conflicting feelings aside for now, and he won’t check Lance’s messages until he finishes all of the tasks Shiro gave him.

        

-

 

This is what always gets Lance in trouble. He thinks too much about things and worries and obsesses when the other person couldn’t possibly care less.

Shiro hasn’t answered him in two hours, and he’s lowkey freaking out. Only lowkey, though, because he’d embarrass himself by talking to his friends or Rachel about it. Plus, he’s in the library, so he can’t cry.

Not that crying in public is beneath him – he’s done it before. But that was on his break at work, when he was surrounded by drunk people distracted by their own conversations. Now, he’s surrounded by busy students who are high on Adderall. If anything, that’d make them focus on him more.

He’s sure Shiro hates him now, after saying something so stupid. If he wasn’t certain Shiro already read his message, he’d wish Twitter would take notes from Instagram and offer an “unsend message” button.

He opens up their conversation, hoping in vain that the typing bubble will appear. But all that’s there is the same stupid response he sent.

**  
Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> Are you kidding?? You’re absolutely living your dreams!!

> What more could you want to do?

   
Shiro has other interests besides acting, and he’s probably never home since he has promotional stuff on top of day-long shoots. Lance realizes this now. Stupid, stupid.

Lance sighs, clicking out of the Twitter tab and onto his Curious Cat profile. Ever since Shiro liked his selfie last night, mere days after he replied to Lance’s tweet and followed him, Lance has been gaining followers like crazy.

It wouldn’t be such a big deal if this was something Shiro normally does. He follows fans like the rest of the cast, and he replies sometimes. But you have to be lucky to get more than one interaction, let alone multiple in the course of a week!

He still can’t believe he’s one of the lucky ones, and apparently neither can anyone else. With an influx of followers comes an influx of anonymous messages, and Lance has been reading each of them just to add fuel to the self-destructive fire.

   
_shiro liked your selfie on accident lol he was obviously drunk don’t get your hopes up_

 _  
_ _Everyone is saying ur cute but I just don’t see it?? Plus shiro obviously loves Adam like can people get a grip_

  
_What the fukc is “shance” you look like you’re 15 and shiro is LITERALLY 27 try again_  


Lance wipes under his nose with the sleeve of his jacket and presses reply on the last one, typing “im LITERALLY 21 try again” and hitting send.

He still doesn’t _want_ it to be anything romantic, anyway. He’s only ever wanted to have a conversation with Shiro, about anything. Since he discovered him, all he’s wanted to do was tell Shiro how much he means to him, and he was finally able to do that. Still, everyone’s assumptions and messages about it are making him want to vomit. 

Ugh. He should be writing his 500-word response to _My Man Godfrey_ for his Hollywood and History class, which starts in approximately 45 minutes. At 21, he should be doing anything besides this. But he can’t look away, and he sure as hell won’t be able to focus unless Shiro replies to him soon.

A printer goes off beside him, loudly, and he jumps. As he turns in his seat, the blonde beside it catches his eye.

“Oh,” he clears his throat, snapping his laptop shut, and giving what he hopes is an award-winning smirk. Just like Shiro. “Hey there, Erin.”

She glances up, taking him in for a moment before pressing her lips into a tight smile. “Hey,” she says. Then, she gathers whatever article she was printing and walks back to her spot behind a computer.

Lance fell for Erin’s wit and her love for psychology when he met her at work back in November. He thought they hit it off that night, and considering the fact that they hooked up, he’d be right.

But after a series of texts for a few days afterwards and further plans that fell through, Erin stopped answering him. It happens sometimes. Or all the time, in Lance’s case.

He opens his laptop back up, and he already has 12 new Twitter notifications. He still has hope that one of them could be from Shiro, and he can’t decide if he loves or hates that about himself.

Once he discovers that none of them are, he concludes that he hates it. A few of them are likes on his Curious Cat response, and one is a tweet from yet another random fan account.  


**FOLLOW ME SHIRO (@shiroempire):** hiii can you PLEASE add me to a DM with Shiro? It would mean so much! Thanks

   
Lance rolls his eyes. Even after declaring that he wants to respect Shiro and not send anyone to his DMs that he doesn’t follow, he’s still getting at least five of these tweets daily.

The rest of the notifications are from his group chat, who freaked when he sent them screenshots of his DMs with Shiro. They haven’t been less demanding of adding Shiro to their DMs than anyone else.

**  
matt holt (@mattholt)**

> im fully convinced that shance is a thing

> ill take it to my grave  


**pidgeon (@shiroganes)**

> wait omg do you think shiro would tell lance if he finally punches lotor out this season

   
**h (@kerberostrash)**  

> He’s under contract he definitely couldn’t  


_pidgeon (@shiroganes) has sent your tweet._

   
**pidgeon (@shiroganes)**

> Cant this person read??? They obviously found your CC link in your bio where it CLEARLY says you’re 21.

   
**h (@kerberostrash)**

> Lance why don’t you just post those screenshots…

> Or at least stop answering hate.

> These people don’t even know what they’re talking about

   
**matt holt (@mattholt)**

> post the screenshots! post the screenshots! post the screenshots!

   
**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> They’ll just say I photoshopped them or something

> Besides it wasn’t just one DM, we had a full convo!! No one needs to see that.

> Also I think we ALL can agree that adashi surpasses any ship

   
**pidgeon (@shiroganes)**

> OMG do you think he’d tell you if theyre real  


As he’s replying, his computer dings with a text notification from his sister. He couldn’t click on it fast enough; he’s never been more grateful not to talk about Shiro.

**  
less attractive twin:**

> are you going to your next class?  


Never mind, Lance takes his gratitude back. The only reason he went to his first class today was because Rachel jumped on his bed to wake him up, then successfully pulled him up and pushed him out the door. And she continues to act like she wasn’t the second twin to come out of the womb.

**  
Lance:**

> No  


**less attractive twin:**

> Then come home and do the dishes

 **  
** **Lance:**

> déjame en paaaaaz

 

Regardless of his response, Lance gathers up his things and starts his walk home. Rachel’s curled up on the couch with a cup of tea in hand, watching America’s Next Top Model, when he gets there.

“You better not be drinking my English Toffee tea!” Lance says, hanging his keys up. Rachel takes a loud sip, telling him that she is, in fact, drinking his English Toffee tea. He lets out a groan.

“It’s good!”

“Yeah, I know. That’s why I don’t want you drinking it.” Lance says, still standing in the doorway. “Couldn’t you do the dishes yourself?”

“Couldn’t you do the dishes yourself?” she mocks, not even looking at him. “I did them three times in a row.”

“I did them three times in a row,” he mocks even harder, stepping over to the couch and, with one hand, tickles his sister in the side. With the other, he takes the mug from her. She tries and fails to stop him as he takes a sip.

“Hey!” she says through laughter.

“I paid for it,” he says, faking his own bright smile and giving her the mug back. “Also if Nyle doesn’t win this season, I’m suing Tyra Banks.”

“He doesn’t have a high fashion look,” she says.

“Yeah, and you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He takes his shoes off and immediately pushes up his sleeves and heads back to the kitchen area to fill the sink with water. If he were to sit down, he’d pout and brood and continue putting it off for sure.

It’s not that he minds doing the dishes. He actually sort of enjoys it when he does. It’s just that he always looks at the pile in the sink when he’s tired or sad, so he never feels like doing it. And Rachel’s more bothered by dirty plates and cups than he is, so then she ends up doing them.

As he’s scrubbing crusted-on pasta sauce out of a bowl, Rachel asks, “Do you work tonight?”

“Not tonight.”

Thank frickin’ God. Mixing drinks and talking to people is fun on occasion but cleaning up vomit and dealing with fights that break out is not. Plus, the longer he works there, the more disillusioned Lance becomes with the drunk girls in lowcut shirts that flirt with him. He just spends his entire shifts as a big ball of anxiety and dread.

“Think you could ask for more shifts?”

“Why?” Lance chuckles, setting the bowl in the drying rack. “Want to have people over for adult activities more often?”

Rachel doesn’t even laugh. She shifts her eyes down and begins playing with her mug, rolling it between her hands. Her tell. As soon as she does, Lance’s brain lists everything that could possibly be wrong.

Whatever it is, it means he has to work more. At a job he doesn’t exactly love. When he’s already overwhelmed.

“We got a letter today. I opened it on my break,” she says, pausing. “They’re raising our rent next month.”

Lance sucks in a breath, dropping the fork he’s holding and leaning forward on the counter. “How much?”

“Three hundred,” she says, and Lance sinks further down. She quickly adds, “My manager says she’ll give me more shifts, but I can only do so much.”

Finally, after weeks of pushing his anxiety and the heavy darkness in him down, Lance puts his head in his hands and allows himself to cry. It starts as a quiet whimper, slow and steady. He didn’t think this day could get worse, but it can and it did. He hears Rachel slide on the linoleum in her socks as she rushes to him to hug him from the side.

“Hey, we’re going to figure this out,” she says.

“I want to go home,” Lance mumbles, and Rachel shakes her head against his back.

“We’re not going home,” she says. “We’re going to do this. If you don’t want to keep working at the bar, you can find something else. We can do this.”

He and Rachel left their home in Rhode Island for Hollywood for a reason – to chase their dreams, Lance’s of being a filmmaker and Rachel’s of being an actress. But today, with the hate, Erin, Shiro, his inability to write a simple 500-word response, and now his rent, Lance wants nothing more than the comfort of his home and his mamá’s food.

Every tear he held back is coming out now, and Lance can do nothing to stop it. He spends a solid ten minutes hunched over the counter, heaving, and Rachel stays there, arms wrapped around him the whole time.

He doesn’t even hear his phone buzz. But Rachel pulls her arms off of him before saying, voice unusually chipper, “You’ve got a message.”

She pats his back as he stands up straight, and he looks down at his lit-up phone. There it is. His name in capital letters. A message from Shiro.

Lance grabs a paper towel to wipe his nose, still shaking and struggling to breathe, as he unlocks his phone.

   
**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> That’s true!! I guess you’re right hahah

   
He watches as the typing bubble appears and disappears over and over. Now he’s realizing how dumb he is to have worried about this, of all things, especially when he knows how busy Shiro is.

Then, he gets another reply. And another.

   
**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> I love to draw…I’ve been doing it since I was a kid. But I haven’t been able to recently

> I swear I’m only home for an hour to eat or something and then to sleep. I don’t get to even be around my sketchbook let alone use it

> It kinda sucks

> Only kinda

> LOVE acting! Don’t get me wrong

   
**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> Maybe you could bring it to set and draw when you’re not filming??

> I know james franco reads on set

**  
SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

 > That’s not a terrible idea Lance :)

   
Lance smiles, sniffling and wiping his nose. The exchange doesn’t change or fix anything at all, but he lets out a breath of relief anyway.

 

**MONDAY, MARCH 4**

**  
Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> hi I hope you’re having a better day than I am!!

> group projects can SUCK MY ASS

> and I DON’T say that lightly

> I cant wait til I get a job on a set and can accurately show how good I am

   
**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> working on set is basically one big group project

> maybe worse in some ways

> there’s about 100 people all working together

**  
Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> WELL at least your cast is super competent and talented

> and you have such good writers

> and your opinion is validated

   
**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**  

> hah yeah true

**  
Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> they just wont

> [clenches fist]

> listen to me

 

 **THURSDAY, MARCH 7**  


**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> Are you having a good day?

   
**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> YESS

> my sister made fricasé de pollo

> and I got this new tea in the mail

> I really like tea ha its kind of lame but

> Its this really good herbal tea with heart shaped pieces in it and CHERRIES among other things

> I’m steeping a cup right now

   
**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> I don’t think that’s lame at all

> Tho I looked up what your sister made and that tea doesn’t sound like it would make a great combo

   
**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> Let me tell u something—

 

**SATURDAY, MARCH 9**

**  
Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> On a scale of 1-10 how hot is ezor irl

**  
SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> I’m gay, Lance

**  
Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> Askfjlkjfdlkjfal

> SO you can still appreciate BEAUTY

 

**TUESDAY, MARCH 12**

**  
Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> So ok im kind of stressed

> Well

> idk

**  
SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> whats up?

   
**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> Well

> Ugh this is hard to explainnnn

> How did you come to terms with being gay?

> I mean you’ve helped me a lot alreadu just being open about it

> Already**

> So im bisexual right and you helped me accept that (thank you btw I love u)

> Im out to my family and friends and everything

> But I feel like im subconsciously not letting myself be attracted to guys?? Or something??

> Like I’m attracted to like 9 girls for every 1 guy

> And when I AM attracted to guys theyre so hard to flirt with or whatever and open myself up to

> Ive had a couple of hookups and got emotionally attached because im annoying like that but

> Its different?

> Idk sometimes I worry I’m lying to myself and im not REALLY bi

> Because the way I feel about guys is so different? Than the way I feel about girls

> But I also think it might be because im just

> Afraid

> Maybe

   
**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> This is a lot to unpack

**  
Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> Ugh sorry shiro

> You’re probably so busy

> Im sorry

**  
SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> Its fine I just want to make sure I reply to everything

> Um hold on

   
**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> Thank you omg

**  
SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> Uh okay so first of all

> I’m open and everything about it because I hated hiding who I was, but it’s taken a while to really love who I am...and it’s still not perfectly easy because everyone has an opinion now and I hate reading them

> I really don’t read a lot of what people say anymore since I came out

> It’s okay to be afraid I think

> especially with flirting I get that, flirting when you know someone’s sexuality is hard enough but flirting when you don’t know if a guy is even interested in your anatomy is a different story haha

> BUT also being bi isn’t always 50/50 I think it rarely is to be honest

> So even if you like guys 10% of the time you’re still bisexual

> And it’s okay that the way you feel about guys and girls is different too, that doesn’t invalidate anything

> I think we grow up seeing how you’re supposed to feel toward girls and boys and you’re almost unlearning half of what you learned growing up so I think

> I think its normal for it to feel different things for different types of people

> You still feel something, which is what counts

> You don’t have to prove it to anyone

> Lol I feel like I just rambled sorry I hope that makes sense

   
**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> OMG SHIRO

> How are you able to make me feel better so easily

> Ugh that made so much sense!!

> Thank you

> Wow

> You’re right

   
**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> Haha no problem

 

**THURSDAY, MARCH 14**

**  
Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> Which is better jaws or psycho  


**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> Huh?

  
**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> Were having a debate in one of my classes. I’m team jaws OBVIOUSLY

   
**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> Ive never seen either of those movies

**  
Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> WHAT

> If you haven’t seen those what movies HAVE you seen?

   
**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> I like the twilight zone

**  
Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> That’s a TV show oh my GOD

 

**FRIDAY, MARCH 15**

  
Keith is in love – according to Shiro. For the last two weeks, he and Lance have DMed whenever Keith deemed it was reasonable for Shiro to have the time. At least a couple of hours every day, often at night or in the early mornings, but sometimes when he and Shiro are out to eat or on set.

Keith tried to be nonchalant about it, but Shiro has taken notice, attentive as he always is. He notices the way Keith lights up when he gets a notification. He points out the rosiness of Keith’s cheeks as he texts, the way he sometimes giggles at his phone.

This isn’t any sort of substantial proof that Keith is talking a cute guy. It’s just Shiro projecting his wishful thinking onto Keith – he wants Keith to have his own life, and dating someone would be the first step toward that.

But that doesn’t stop Keith from lying awake at night, worrying that Shiro is one step away from figuring him out. He’s not flirting with Lance, by any means. He’s made sure not to do that, as much as he wants to sometimes. But he’s certain Shiro wouldn’t exactly be happy with Keith posing as him and having lengthy conversations with fans.

He considers himself lucky that Lance hasn’t tweeted about this. The fandom would be in an absolute frenzy over it.

He’s seen the hate they’ve given Lance since he liked his selfie, and he knows it would only get worse if they knew the extent of it. Maybe Lance knows too, and that’s why he hasn’t said anything.

At any rate, Keith has made sure not to like or reply to anything else from Lance. Shiro would notice eventually and no doubt scold him for showing apparent favoritism. He’s done it before, and that time was an accident. Keith has kept it strictly private.

He just got back from taking Kosmo out for the second time today, breezing through traffic on his bike, and he already has the assistant director barking orders at him. His sketchbook under his arm, he types out a tweet as he sprints to Shiro’s trailer. 

 **  
SHIRO (@takashitweets):** On set again today! Let’s goooOoOoo! Working on making this season great for you guys :)

  
He presses send just as he opens the door and steps inside, but he has to take a step back when he looks up. Normally, he’ll walk into Shiro taking a nap, reading the script and rehearsing his lines, or eating. Today, Shiro has his legs up on Adam’s lap, and Adam is leaning toward him, showing him something on his phone.

“O-oh,” Keith says, “Hey, Adam.”

He feels as though he’s walked in on them making out, or something. He’s never seen them this close without a camera on them, and well, maybe he wasn’t supposed to see this.

But neither of them move or act like it’s a big deal. Keith relaxes.

“Show him,” Shiro giggles. “Show him the video.”

“Hold—hold on,” Adam laughs too, tapping his phone.

Keith’s eyes widen slightly as Adam tucks an arm under Shiro’s legs and moves them off his lap himself. Then he jumps up and shows Keith what they’ve been looking at. It’s a video of a chicken playing the piano.

He forces out some laughter, his gaze flicking between the two of them. He catches Shiro’s eye, but still, he isn’t acting like this is weird. Maybe they’re just staying in character – they’d just had a camera rehearsal and are in their wardrobe, after all.

“Isn’t that fucking amazing?” Shiro asks.

“Takashi couldn’t even breathe when I showed him,” Adam says. “I was afraid I’d have to give him CPR.”

 _Takashi._ Okay…

“I’d be impressed if it played Mozart or something,” he mumbles.

“I swear you don’t like anything,” Shiro says, still unable to contain his laughter. “Except that guy you’ve been talking to, whoever he is.”

Keith feels his cheeks get hot. “Anyway, first AD just told me to let you know they want you…well they want you _both_ back to shoot that hallway scene in ten.”

“Aye aye,” Shiro salutes.

“I just have one more thing to show you,” Adam plops back down on the sofa and Shiro returns his legs right to his lap.

“I’ll, um, get you water,” Keith backs up and runs into the door. “I’ll leave it at your chair.”

“Could you get me one, too?” Adam asks.

“Sure.”

“Thanks, man,” he smiles, and Keith stumbles out the door and down the stairs. He does not know what he just witnessed. Surely, Shiro would have told him about any developments in the Adashi saga, raising his voice and waving his arms about dramatically.

As he makes his way back to set, Keith’s phone buzzes with a message from Lance. It’s like he knows he was just referenced.

   
**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> If I dropped out of college do you think I could still make it in the film industry be honest

   
**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> Sure, just look at me

> I barely graduated high school and now I spend 12-hour days on set

**  
Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> LMAO weren’t you top of your class

  
Keith stops in his tracks, closing his eyes. He’s been good about being vague and not giving away anything that might show he’s not _actually_ Shiro. But sometimes he forgets he’s not merely talking as an alter ego of himself, like just now, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep up with it.

He thought he could be casual, to talk to Lance the same guilt-free way that he tweets, but that’s proven false. In every conversation, something comes up where he has to respond with facts about Shiro. He can’t just talk about the experiences he and Shiro share like he does on his Twitter.

His guilt is still as prevalent as it was at the beginning.

He knows a lot about Lance already. He knows he took gymnastics from ages 5 to 12 before moving on to play soccer, that he just recently came out to himself as bi thanks to Shiro, that he works as a bartender and hates it. That he’s far away from home and misses his pets. He knows his cupboards are full of loose-leaf tea, but he mainly drinks a really strong kind that Keith can’t pronounce. It starts with a P. His favorite movie is _Citizen Kane_ if you’re talking cinematically, _Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs_ if you’re talking just pure enjoyment, and _Scott Pilgrim vs. the World_ if you’re talking both.

But the thing is, Lance knows nothing about Keith. He doesn’t even know he’s _talking_ to Keith. And that makes this entire thing a double-edged sword. It makes the guilt weigh even heavier and the deception more obvious. It makes him want to tell the truth before he gets in too deep.

But it also makes Keith wonder…if Lance knew he was talking to Keith, if Lance learned as much about Keith as Keith has learned about him, would he still want to talk to him so badly?

All signs point to “No.”

“Hey Keith,” Allura says, causing him to jump. He locks his phone quickly, shoving it into his pocket. “Are you alright?”

And then there’s also Allura, who despite being mainly caught up in her work life, can read him almost as easily as Shiro can. Allura, who can and would fire him in a heartbeat if she found out.

He was on autopilot as he went back and forth about Lance in his head and has ended up in the catering tent. Two feet away are the water bottles, but between him and the cooler stands his actual boss.

“I’m only here for a moment,” she says sweetly. Good, so maybe she can’t read him that well. “I’ve been trying to contact you.”

“Sorry,” he clears his throat. “Um, my phone is kind of messed up.”

Really, he’s been avoiding texting or emailing her back. He’s afraid she can somehow hack into his phone and find out he’s been talking to Lance. Or, more rationally, she also has access to Shiro’s twitter and already knows what’s happening.

“You should get that looked at, then,” she says, her voice light and indicating that she doesn’t believe him one bit. “This is a super important job, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Anyway, Shiro has to post two Instagram photos and a post in his story for that ASPCA/Bumble partnership he wanted to be a part of. I forwarded you the info on what they want,” she says. “And he did get that Calvin Klein shoot. It’ll be June 7.”

Keith’s eyebrows shoot up. “Calvin Klein?”

“Yes, it’s very high profile, so I wanted to make sure you knew,” she says. “I told him, and his schedule is shared with you on Outlook, but put it in your calendar is well.”

“Got it,” he says. “Thanks, Allura.”

He goes to sidestep past her, but she catches his arm. At this rate, Shiro and Adam will be back on set before him and without water like he promised. At least he can really blame this one on Allura.

“Ah, one more thing,” she says. “Has Shiro said anything to you regarding Adam? I’ve been hearing some whispers.”

“No, um, not really,” he says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“Mhmm, okay,” she says, nodding. “Well, let me know if he does. I don’t think it’s a very good idea. _Both_ of their contracts with Kerberos last another three seasons.”

“Yeah, sure, will do,” he says, sidestepping again. “I have to get water to Shiro now. See you later.”

“Okay,” she says, eyes narrowed at him. It was only a half-lie, so he’s not worried. It’s not like Shiro having a crush on Adam really changes anything. “See you.”

By the time he grabs two bottles of water and turns back around, she’s gone. He pulls his phone back out as he walks to set, balancing it with the water and his sketchbook.

**  
SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

 > Yeah, but it still FELT like I was barely graduating.

   
**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**  

> Okay RELATABLE!!

  
He lets out a breath of relief. The typing bubble appears for only a moment before a photo comes through. It’s Lance, same freckles and dark skin, putting up a peace sign while lying in bed. He has dark circles under his eyes, but Keith’s insides still feel like goo.

**  
Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> this is me skipping class the day an assignment is due because I didn’t turn it in and im afraid my professor will look at me with judgement

> what r u doing  


This is what Keith means. The moment he feels relieved, he has to lie yet again. At this point, if he doesn’t send Lance a photo back, it’ll look suspicious, he’s sure of it. He clicks into his text convo with Shiro, scrolling through all of the photos between them.

There’s one of him and Adam from about a week ago that’s almost too perfect. Shiro’s sitting in his chair on set, Adam standing behind him and resting his head on his shoulder. They’re both giving weird smiles, eyes closed.

It was accompanied, for Keith, with a text about how they wanted milkshakes from Shake Shack. Now, it’s going to be sent to Lance.

**  
SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> this is us on set shooting episode 2 waiting for my assistant to bring us milkshakes

  
Still, not a lie.

**  
Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> OMG!!

> I love that so much

> I’m so proud of you for being a milkshake guy I was a little worried about you after finding out you hadn’t seen jaws

  
Keith sets Adam’s water bottle down in his chair before plopping down in Shiro’s. Like he expected, they’ve begun filming the scene already, and Shiro and Adam are focused on what the director is saying to them.

He sets Shiro’s bottle of water on the ground and opens his sketchbook in his lap. Yesterday, he drew Lotor and his various facial expressions throughout the shoot, so he takes a photo of that.  


**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**  

> also drawing like you suggested :D

> a milkshake guy as opposed to what?

> and ok I know zero people who have seen jaws I don’t understand

**  
Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> THOSE ARE SO GOOD!! SHIRO!!

> smoothie guy, slushie guy, idk…shaved ice guy

> you work in FILM how do you not know anyone who has seen jaws.

  
Keith can’t stop from smiling to himself, no matter how hard he tries. It’s not even like this guy is super funny or anything. He may not be in love, but he definitely has a crush.

And yet – there’s still that conflicting thought in the back of his mind. He only thinks the art is good because it’s Shiro. He’s only talking to him because it’s Shiro.

**  
SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> haha thanks

> im a fan of all four personally

> …maybe it’s not a good movie…

   
**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> UNSTANNED

> UNFOLLOWED

> BLOCKED

> GOODBYE

   
The grin stays on Keith’s face, and he flips to a blank page of his sketchbook. Literally everything about this guy is so cute. He scrolls back up to the photo and begins absentmindedly sketching.

Lance is just perfect, he’s decided. He considers himself a pretty okay artist, but he can’t replicate his face in a way that does him justice. Not at all.

“Who’s that?” Shiro says suddenly, uncapping his water bottle and taking a swig. How did Keith not see him literally bend over in front of him to grab it? He snaps his sketchbook shut and Shiro raises an eyebrow. “Oh my god, is that the guy?”

“No,” Keith groans. “I’m not talking to anyone.”

“You’re blushing,” Adam says, and Keith jumps again. God, he didn’t notice him come over either.

“I’m not _blushing,”_ Keith snaps. “I’m mad you guys keep assuming shit.”

“No, I’m pretty sure you’re blushing,” Shiro says, and Keith frowns. Shiro puts a comforting hand on his shoulder, and instead of relaxing, he tenses up more. “Keith, it’s okay to like people and to talk about liking them. You’re not going to jinx anything, you know.”

“I swear to god,” Keith says. “I’m not talking to anyone! I don’t have time to.”

“Well,” Shiro says, tapping the sketchbook with a finger. “Your imagination comes up with pretty cute guys then.”

“Thanks,” Keith says.

He slides down in his seat as Adam and Shiro head back for another take, watching them playfully shove at each other.

The worst part of all this is lying to Shiro.

 

-

 

Shiro is the light at the end of the very long, very dark tunnel that is Lance’s life. Not to whine or anything, but nothing has gotten much better.

He grabs a glass from beneath the bar, shoveling ice into it before filling it with water for the teenage boy that’s with his father. With a smile plastered on his face, he sets it in front of him with a straw without receiving a thank you.

DMing Shiro should be a huge thing, flooding Lance with excitement and awe. And it is, sort of. It was at first. But he’s been working nonstop, too tired to do schoolwork let alone feel any sort of joy. Instead, his daily conversations with Shiro have been a form of relief.

It’s like, yeah, he may be getting zeros on assignments and he may still not know if he can pay his rent next month. He may still be walking around daily wondering what exactly it is about him that repels the people he’s interested in.

But at least he can talk to his hero about stupid stuff and vent to him on occasion. The ability to get Shiro’s wise words sent directly to his inbox was given to him at the time he needed it most.

A group of college girls comes in and sits down on his side, chattering amongst themselves. They’re pretty, Lance can acknowledge. At this point, though, he’s too beaten down to even try for a hookup.

“Hey, ladies,” he gives them a charming grin, the one girls usually love. The one that will hopefully get him tipped. “Name’s Lance. What can I get for you?”

They giggle and glance at each other as they order, and they whisper to each other while Lance mixes their drinks. One of them, a petite brunette, blushes as he serves her.

This is what he doesn’t get – girls like him. He’s learned how to flirt better since high school and not be so obnoxious about it. It gets him as far as a date or a one-night stand, but then it’s a dead end. They get to know him and he’s still too intense.

Maybe it would be different with guys, if Lance could get himself to stop being so nervous about it. The same thing happened with the two guys he hooked up with in the past – he was too much, wanted too much. But they were Tinder dates, and he didn’t exactly specify what he wanted from the get-go.

Who knows. He’s afraid to find out, and he’s tired of trying.

“This does not taste like Pinot Grigio,” a middle-aged woman he served a bit ago says after flagging him over. “It’s Chardonnay, I think.”

“Sorry, Cheryl,” he says, with a soft, kind smile this time. The kind moms like. “Must have grabbed the wrong bottle.”

He takes her glass from her and pulls a clean one out. From the shelf of bottles, he grabs the Pinot Grigio one he’s certain he grabbed before and shows her the label before he pours another.

She takes a sip immediately after he hands it to her and shakes her head. “Nope, definitely Chardonnay.”

“I literally showed you the bottle,” Lance laughs, only because she’s a regular and he can get away with it. “Maybe they made a mistake when bottling.”

“Get me a glass of Chardonnay and let me see,” she says, and he sighs when he turns around. He knows there’s going to be a problem when he tries to charge her for all of this.

As he’s pouring the Chardonnay, the father and his son are looking at him expectantly. Before Cheryl can make more of a fit, he slides over to them.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Yeah, can I just close our tab?”

He gets them the receipt, serves a few more regulars, and Cheryl asks for a vodka cranberry instead of the wine. As he’s filling the glass, he watches the clock on the far wall behind her. Just an hour more of his shift.

And to make things go even smoother, he takes the wine off Cheryl’s bill since she sent both glasses back. The crowd starts to thin out as midnight steadily approaches, and Lance’s shoulders lower from his ears. He can relax. Just one more hour. He can do this.

But then as he’s wiping down the counter and restocking glasses, the college girls call him over again. Their cocktails have been drained, and each of them look on the brink of tipsiness. Lance takes a deep breath and puts his game face back on.

“Anything else I can get for you ladies?” he says, voice surprisingly light, as he dries a glass.

“What’s the best drink you can make?” the one on the left asks, cheeks pink and auburn hair in two loose braids, with her chin resting on top of folded hands.

“Well,” Lance leans forward on the counter. “Do you guys like whiskey?”

They each scrunch their faces, and the girl who asked shakes her head. He figured.

“I make a damn good sex on the beach, then,” Lance says.

The girl in the middle, the one who blushed when he served her, starts cracking up. Must be a lightweight, Lance thinks. “Is that a pick-up line or something?”

He recoils, gesturing his denial wildly, “What? N-no!”

Now, they’re all laughing. He tries to regain his composure, to still be a confident flirt. He leans forward again and tilts his head.

“It’s just a drink,” he says in what he hopes is a playfully stern way, looking at her. “Cranberry juice, orange juice, vodka, and a little bit of peach liqueur.”

“Sounds perfect,” the third girl, on the right, says. Her blonde hair is tied up in a bun, and she seems the least susceptible to alcohol out of the three.

“I make it perfectly,” Lance straightens, crossing his arms. “One for each of you?”

They nod and watch him set the hi-ball glasses up and fill them with ice. The lightweight brunette is a little too invested, but maybe she’ll be drunk and attracted enough to him to give him more than a 20 percent tip.

He starts with the vodka, making a show of pouring it into each glass with ease.

“So, do you guys go to LMU?” he asks, moving onto the peach liqueur.

“Sammy and I do,” the blonde says, pointing to the girl on the left. “Caroline is just here visiting. She’s on her spring break.”

Lance turns to bend down into the refrigerator to grab the cranberry and orange juices. He can just feel them staring at his ass.

When he pops back up, he says, composed as ever, “I can’t wait ‘til we’re on spring break.”

“I know, right?” Sammy says.

At the same time, the other, still unnamed girl asks, “Wait, you go to LMU?”

“Yeah, I’m a film major,” he says. “Junior.”

“Ohhh,” Sammy nods, probably also having wondered how they haven’t crossed paths. “We’re bio. Well, me and Gwen.”

“I’m an English major,” Caroline shrugs.

“Where d’you go?”

He uncaps the orange juice first and starts to pour, intending to multitask. But then she says, “Providence College,” and he has to stop.

“No way!” he says, feeling himself naturally brighten for the first time in his entire shift. He continues to pour, talking quickly now, “My friends go there, but they’re biochem and computer science. It’s not far from where I went to high school.”

“Yeah? I love it there.”

“Go Friars,” Lance puts a fist in the air, moving onto the cranberry juice and uncapping it with one hand. He pours it just as easily as the rest.

His job may make him anxious, but at least he’s good at it.

“Ugh, such a stupid mascot,” she says, shaking her head, but she has a smile on her face. Her pink cheeks have deepened into the same crimson as when he first served her.

But as she says this, Lance notices another college student take a seat a few down from the girls. Even from the corner of his eye, Lance can tell he’s attractive.

He finishes off the drinks quickly, popping a straw in each one and setting them in front of the girls before excusing himself.

The guy is on his phone, biting his lip as he scrolls through Twitter or something. Lance wasn’t mistaken – he’s hot, with broad shoulders and lean arms. He tries to compose himself again, to bring on the flirtiness like he does with the girls. Instead, his voice cracks. 

“H-hey man,” he says, silently cursing himself. “What can I get for you?”

The guy looks up from his phone, brushing his dreadlocks out of his eyes. “Ah, just a whiskey, neat. Thanks.”

A man after Lance’s own heart. He almost melts into a puddle right there, but he has to keep doing his job. “Sure, can I see your ID?”

He fishes out his wallet, pulling his ID out and handing it to him. Ryan Kinkade, 22 years old. Lance hands it back and tries to smirk, but his face just kind of twists into this weird grin.

“Okay, I’ll get that for you, Ryan.”

“Hah, uh, thanks,” he peers at Lance’s nametag, “Lance.”

He turns to get the whiskey, but when he turns back around, a girl has joined Ryan. He pours the drink, takes her order, and serves her. And their conversation – and Lance’s chances – end there.

The college girls are ready to go soon after, and Lance closes each of their tabs just before his shift ends. Finally, he can go home and breathe. But first, he has to head to the back and clock out, and hopefully find his manager.

That’s the easiest part of the whole night. She’s there already, talking to one of the chefs.

“Zethrid, can I talk to you?” Lance asks after grabbing his army green jacket off the hook. He doesn’t wait for her to respond, wringing his jacket in his hands. “Listen, I really need more hours. Like badly.”

“I already gave you more hours, Lance,” she says, and the chef rolls his eyes, walking away. “Honestly, I’ve given you more than I should’ve. Now, some of our other bartenders barely have any.”

He tries not to groan, instead making himself small. “A raise, then?” he practically squeaks.

“I’m really sorry,” she says, shrugging. “I’ve done all I can do.”

That’s exactly what Rachel’s boss said, and now they’re up shit creek. He feels his chest start to constrict, but he tries to keep his breathing level. At least until he can get out to his car and cry.

He walks back out through the dining area, head down and hands slipped into his jacket pockets. Still, his coworker Axca calls him over to the bar, waving a receipt.

Lance takes a few steps over, just to be able to hear her.

“A, uh,” she looks down at the paper, grinning, “Caroline left her number for you.”

Normally, this would make Lance ecstatic, and he’d take the receipt and program the number right into his phone. But now, it just makes it even harder for him to breathe.

“Just-just put it with the rest of the receipts,” he waves her off, turns back around, and speed-walks out the door.

He lets out a long breath once he gets back to the car, slamming his head back against the headrest. Today’s shift wasn’t any different than others, but it weighed heavier on him. Every aspect of it felt telling and pointless at the same time.

If he can’t make enough money to pay his bills, what’s the point of working like this, anyway? He’s exhausted.

He pulls out his phone, immediately opening up Twitter and his DMs with Shiro. He hasn’t messaged Lance back since he joked about blocking him, which has only added onto Lance’s worry.

Lance really needs him right now, so hopefully he’s not like…pissed off.  


**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> I was just kidding btw

> are u awake?

> how did you ever work in food service?? For literally all of high school? I’m dying shiro.

>Dying.

   
**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> hey yeah im awake

> are you okay?

   
**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> I wasn’t going to tell you this because I didn’t want to make you think I was asking for money or something but

> my rent is going up next month and ive taken on more hours at work and I still haven’t saved up enough to actually pay the bills and its so FRUSTRATING

> I don’t even like working here

> like its fine I guess, im good at it. I USED to love talking to people. I don’t know what happened.

> I’m just so anxious

   
**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> Hey, it’s going to be okay, Lance

> You’ll figure it out. Maybe do some freelance?

> You’re good at filmmaking, right? Maybe you could do photography or something as freelance  


**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> idk I don’t have a good camera

> I’m seriously having a panic attack

   
**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> shiro taught me this way of breathing when you feel stressed

> you hold one nostril closed, breathe in, then let go of that nostril and close the other one and breathe out, breathe in through that same nostril, and repeat the process

  
Lance tries it, closing his eyes and letting his calloused thumb and forefinger alternate pressing down on his nose. He does this for a least two minutes. His heart starts to slow and beat at a normal pace, and though his chest still feels like it’s got a fire burning inside his ribcage, he can at least breathe a little easier.

He starts to type his thanks before noticing exactly what Shiro said, eyebrows coming together.

But Shiro is way ahead of him, the typing bubble appearing and disappearing before another message appears.

   
**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> Sorry I’m super tired, we had a long day on set today!! I cant believe I literally said Shiro taught me. I meant my dad

> I guess he goes by Shiro sometimes too

**  
Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> hahah you should get some rest!

> that really helped though thank you so much

> I can’t thank you enough for being there

> I think im going to drive home now

**  
SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> maybe take another few minutes

> drive safe

> I’m going to go to sleep…goodnight!

**  
Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> night shiro :)

  
Lance does what he’s told, if only because he has to sit in shock over the fact that Shiro told him to “drive safe.” Maybe some of the thrill is still there. At least when he says stuff like that.

He stays in the parking lot, breathing the way Shiro advised, for another ten minutes. It helps, but he’s not surprised. Shiro is usually right. Maybe he’s right about it all, too – maybe it will be okay. Even if he still feels beaten down and tired right now.

On the drive home, Lance calls his mom, because some comforts not even Shiro can replace.

“Mamá!” he says as soon as she picks up.

“Mijo! I was just about to call you,” she says. He can hear her smile in her voice, and it warms his heart enough to calm him down more. “How are you, cariño?”

He lets out another big sigh and hopes this doesn’t pull him into another panic attack. The streets of L.A., even at this hour, are so stop and go that the chances of him getting into an accident while having a panic attack near 100 percent.

“Has Rachel told you about the rent situation?”

“Sí, and she refuses to let me help,” she says, “And I assume you won’t either. Tercos, both of you.”

Lance laughs. “You’re right, I won’t,” he says, and he sinks in his seat. “But if it doesn’t look up soon, we might have to. I’m already working so much, but it’s not enough.”

“You’re putting school second,” she says, matter of fact.

“How’d you know?”

“I know you, mijo,” she says, her voice going soft. “Don’t work yourself to death. Find a different job if you must; don’t set aside your passion.”

“I’ll try,” he frowns. He stares ahead and has to blink the tail lights of dozens of cars back into focus. He can already feel another panic attack coming on.

Faintly, his dogs’ barks come through his car speakers, and his mom chuckles. “Toro y Diablo dicen ‘hola,’” she says. Then, in her baby-talk voice, she says, “Hola, Lance!”

He presses his lips into a smile – hearing them helps just a little. “Hi guys! I miss you!”

Over their barking he hears his older brother Luis ask, “Is that Lance?” and there’s rustling on the other end as his mom hands him the phone.

“ _Lance,”_ Luis says.

“Luis,” Lance laughs.

“Rachel told me your guys’ dilemma and how you want to come home,” he says. “I will personally send you a check. You are _not_ coming home.”

“Good to know you don’t want me there,” Lance teases, but his brother still scoffs.

“I want you to do what makes you happy, and being in L.A. is the best place for you to do that, I think,” he says. “Don’t give up that easily, hermano. Te amo.”

“Te amo, Luis,” he says, and there’s more rustling as his mom comes back on. In that time, it seems a car comes out of nowhere and Lance has to slam on his breaks, which just serves to make his still-present anxiety worse.

“Lance, I have the most brilliant idea!” his mom says, and he tries to pay a tad less attention to the phone call and more to the road. “You should walk people’s dogs! Kill two birds with one stone, yes?”

“Ha, maybe mamá,” he says. “I should go, I’m still driving.”

“You’re driving?” she asks, less excited now. “Lance, ¿qué te dije sobre estar en tu teléfono mientras conduces?”

“Okay!” he says. “Adios! Te amo!”

She sighs. “Te amo, cariño.”

He finds himself smiling as they hang up. Everything might be terrible, but at least he has people in his corner: his family, Hunk, Pidge, Matt. Shiro.

Holy shit. Shiro’s in his corner. Takashi Shirogane is in his _corner._

Okay, so maybe the thrill hasn’t exactly worn off at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Updates for this will be every other Friday. 
> 
> I'm currently working on this in addition to an original manuscript that I hope to get published! If you'd like to see when I update this/post on here and support me in that endeavor, you can follow me on twitter: [@stephclaires](http://www.twitter.com/stephclaires)  
> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Keith starts to back off and Lance gets a tiny crush on a customer.
> 
> TW - noncon kiss at the end of Keith's part of March 19, shortly after he leaves the bar. If this could trigger you in any way, skip to the next chapter break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI im sorry this is late-ish, I had a nervous breakdown and took a spontaneous 2 hour trip…currently posting this from a hotel wifi hehe enjoy!!

**MONDAY, MARCH 18**  
  


The sound of spare change clinking together can easily be heard over Frank Ocean’s _Blonde_ as Lance rolls coins with Rachel at their kitchen table. He has one foot up on the chair, chin resting on his knee as he lazily sorts the silver from the copper.

He had the longest shift ever yesterday and spent his St. Patrick’s Day dealing with a bunch of drunk people young and old pretending to be Irish, so he skipped class this morning to sleep in.

Rachel yawns a big, loud yawn. She wasn’t as lucky and had to wake up at, like, 4:30 a.m. to open at Starbucks. Gross.

“I need one more dime,” she says, holding out her hand. Lance shifts a few coins in his pile around before finding one and tossing it to her. She doesn’t even try to catch it, letting it sail past her and onto the floor.

Over the last week, they’ve collected any spare change they see around town. Now, they’ve thrown it all into a pile on the table, along with anything from Lance’s wallet, Rachel’s piggybank, or beneath the couch cushions. They’re hoping for at least 20 bucks.

“Do you think we should move?” Lance mumbles.

“In the middle of the semester?” Rachel yawns again. “Nothing will be available. This was the cheapest place, anyway.”

“Ugh,” he lets his limbs go limp, falling off the chair and to the floor, arms splayed to the sides. “I hate this.”

The most frustrating part about this is that they’ve got enough money to pay the rent. But it’s _just_ enough. They still have to pay for groceries and gas and make their car payments. So, they have to keep working and saving.

Lance is still exhausted, and he spoke too soon about Shiro being in his corner. Ever since Friday, he’s barely gotten any replies from him. He’s trying to ignore the nagging thought in his brain that his panic attack annoyed Shiro and made him never want to talk to him again.

He’s probably just busy, right? Yeah.

Just then, he hears his phone buzz up on the table, and his heart leaps out of his chest. But he refuses to get his hopes up, staying on the floor and covering his eyes with his arm.

“Who texted me?” he asks. Lance peaks up to see Rachel leaning over to check as she fills a roll with nickels.

“Hunk,” she says, and his entire body relaxes. “He said that he might try to come here for a few days this week if he can afford it.”

His heart jumps yet again for multiple reasons, and he pulls himself up to sit back at the table. “How’d you read that? My messages don’t show unless my phone’s unlocked,” he says, grabbing it.

“I put my prints in one time when you left it unlocked and went to the bathroom,” she says, nonchalant as ever, sliding more coins into the paper roll.

“Oh my god,” he shoves her with his free hand, and she almost tips off the chair. “Creep!”

“What do you even have to hide?” she giggles, but her expression changes quickly as she looks up in horror. “You don’t send people dick pics, do you?”

“That’s for me to know and you to _never_ find out.”

“Um, ew. You haven’t sent _Shiro_ a dick pic, right?”

“No, Rachel, oh my god!” he says, dropping his phone back on the table without even unlocking it for himself. If people could stop acting like this is some big, romantic thing with Shiro, that’d be great. “It’s not like that. He’s like…my role model, and I really don’t want his opinion on my penis.”

“Okay,” she says, giggling louder now. It makes Lance start to laugh. They’re both kind of delirious. “Hey,” she says through her laughter. “I got…an audition. For…an Arby’s commercial.”  

“An Arby’s commercial,” he squeaks, covering his face with his hand. Through his fingers, he continues. “Rachel McClain, the next face of Arby’s. Oscar material.”

“Um, okay,” she bellows. “One day you’re going to direct an Arby’s commercial, and you’ll say to me: Lo siento, mi hermosa hermana. I was wrong to laugh at you. Arby’s commercials are el escalón to success and I’m proud of you.”

“You wish,” he says, another laugh escaping him. “My first real project is going to be Oscar winning.”

“Why are you so obsessed with the Oscars?”

“Why are you so obsessed with the Oscars?” he mocks, putting his hands on his hips. “Because I’m a film major, you doof.”

At those words, he feels all oxygen leave his system, and he realizes exactly how much he’s screwed up these last few weeks. He’s skipped several classes and hasn’t turned in at least three assignments. In the classes he does show up to, he falls asleep. He’s going to fail something at this rate.

“I have a midterm paper due tomorrow,” he says, moving the coins in front of him around just to do something with his hands.

He doesn’t see it, but he knows Rachel’s smile drops. “Have you started it?”

“No.”

“Lance, that’s not like you.”

“I don’t have time,” he says. “Or energy. I haven’t turned in anything lately.”

“Well, you have time now,” she says, and he looks up at her. She’s gone back to counting change, her mouth quirked to the side. When he doesn’t move or speak, she sits up straight. “I can do this myself, it’s fine.”

His shoulders fall. “I should tell my professors and TAs what’s going on, shouldn’t I?”

“Yeah,” she nods, reaching out to ruffle his hair, and he groans. There she goes again, acting like she’s the older twin. “See, you’re pretty smart when you don’t let your anxiety control your brain.”

“Bold of you to think my anxiety ever stops controlling my brain,” he says, standing now.

“You know what I mean,” she says, tilting her head and looking up at him with a frown.

Yeah, he does know what she means. If only it were that simple, though. He tries breathing right and challenging his thoughts and all of that, but he’s not very good at it. Everything he could possibly worry about eats away at him anyway.

What usually happens is he grabs onto the most pressing issue and tries to fix it. Usually, it’s how people view him, so he just tries to be the best at what he loves and make people happy with him.

But now it’s the rent, and he’s dedicating all his time to making money. Now he can’t focus on his passion – the reason he’s in this stupid apartment in the first place. It’d be cool if his brain would let him balance the two without completely spiraling into itself.

He flops onto his bed and grabs his laptop, but he already knows he won’t be able to focus. He finally checks his texts from Hunk instead.  
  


**Hunkules <3:**

> How do you feel about all of us coming to see you sometime this week?

> We’re talking about it and we think we can swing it

> We’re lowkey worried about you  
  


**Lance:**

> YES PLEASE COME I MISS YOU GUYS

> but come this weekend if possible that’s when my spring break starts  
  


**Hunkules <3: **

> You okay buddy?  
  


**Lance:**

> Fine just dying :)

> Shiro hasn’t messaged me back in like three days and im almost glad I have this rent shit to worry about

> otherwise id probably be crying rn hahahah  
  


**Hunkules <3:**

> Just try to remember how cool it was he even answered you as much as he did!!

> He’s probably so busy

> And it has nothing to do with you I know what you’re thinking  
  


**Lance:**

> ur probably right

> why am I this way

  
Lance locks his phone and looks up at his Kerberos poster, Shiro’s smiling face standing out to him like usual. He’s pointing at the camera – at Lance – and something about it motivates the hell out of him. He opens his laptop and pulls a new Word document up.

Shiro’s got to be busy. That’s why he’s not answering him. He still has his support, and he knows Shiro believes in him. He has to make him proud.

  
-  
 

Keith is in huge trouble. Getting some facts wrong about Shiro is one thing, since Lance doesn’t actually know him, but talking _about_ Shiro _as_ Shiro is another thing entirely. And his excuse was bullshit if he ever heard it.

He goes by Shiro because his dad’s name is Takashi. Keith is pretty sure his dad has never been called Shiro in his life, so he’s lucky Lance bought that. He’s lucky Lance is buying any of this.

Shiro’s been hovering and silently trying to figure out who Keith is talking to and why he’s smiling at his phone, too. He knows him enough to think that if he waits patiently, Keith will tell him. He’s going to get antsy soon, though; it’s only a matter of time before he finds out.

Keith is in way over his head.

For some reason, Shiro decided to drive them to take pictures for the ASPCA/Bumble campaign in his _new BMW_. Kosmo’s lying in the backseat, panting, and he’s already covered the seats with his hair.

They’re heading to the famous pink wall on Melrose, but traffic is insane for 11 a.m. on a Monday. Fucking tourists.

Keith uses the time to rapidly click through Twitter, replying to other fans’ DMs so that if anyone finds out about Lance, it’ll look less suspicious. He was just trying to interact more with fans, to make Shiro look more personable.  
       

**Ainsley (@shirosthetics)**

> Shiro, I know you’ll never see this, but I just wanted to let you know how much you mean to me. You are such a kind and talented person, and your passion for acting inspires me so much. You’ve made me feel loved when I felt alone. You’d never believe how many lives you’ve changed just by being yourself. I love you so much and I hope I can meet you and hug you soon. Thank you <3  
  


**SHIRO (@takashitweets)  
**

> Whoa this is so nice! Thank you!

> I just wanna hug you now so I hope we can meet soon too  
  


**Ainsley (@shirosthetics)**

 > OMGHDSJFS WHAT

> HI

> I really didn’t think you’d see that omg

> I love you so much I’m coming to LA in July!!  
  


**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

 > Well then I hope we run into eachother :)  
  


-  
  


**CHLOE LOVES LOTOR (@kerberoskrew)**

> you make me want to wake up every morning and be myself  :)

   
**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> you do the same for me chloe

> also lotor loves you too  
  


**CHLOE LOVES LOTOR (@kerberoskrew)**

> SHIROTJO

> im crying

> ILY  
 

**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> love you too!  
  


-  
  


**levi (@babytakashi)**

> I hate saying this but I feel like ill never love anyone more than you. I keep trying but no one sparks joy in me quite like you do. Hopefully we’ll meet again in another life  
  


**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> you’ll find happiness and love I promise

> keep your head up  
  


**Levi (@babytakashi)**

> thanks shiro love u

> you’re what’s keeping me alive  
  


**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> I’m proud of you for pushing through! YOU are what’s keeping you alive. Love you  
 

-  
 

**yasmine (@yaaaasmine)**

> whats your opinion on pineapple on pizza  
  


**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> yes

> especially on bbq chicken pizza  
  


**yasmine (@yaaaasmine)**

> EW FAKE

> BLOCKEDT  
 

It kind of bums Keith out, reading all of these. He can’t imagine meaning that much to someone, being a stranger’s reason to live or inspiring them that much. He can’t even imagine a stranger caring whether he liked pineapple on pizza.

But, like usual, he can take Shiro’s place and pretend. He can try to convince himself that his tweets play any sort of role in this.

They arrive at the Paul Smith store and park. The pink wall is even brighter in person, but Keith still doesn’t understand the appeal of it. He unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out, putting his seat down and leading Kosmo out onto the pavement by his leash.

Kosmo sniffs at the air, peering around at his surroundings. This is completely new to him – he never leaves the general vicinity of the apartment.

“You okay?” Shiro asks, locking the car and slipping his sunglasses up on his head. He kneels down to pet Kosmo, and when Keith doesn’t answer, he looks up at him.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine.”

“You’ve just seemed out of it lately,” Shiro takes the leash from Keith and they head to the wall. He kneels down again, telling Kosmo to sit.

“I’ve just been stressed,” he says. “You’ve been really busy.”

Which is sort of true. Shiro was this busy when they filmed the first season, so Keith should’ve expected it. But he hasn’t taken Kosmo on a walk in weeks, and he’s been eating at odd hours and mostly fast food. He doesn’t get a lot of sleep, either, so it’s no wonder he made the mistake he did with Lance.

“Sorry I keep you on set so much,” Shiro says. He shifts into a crouch and wraps his arms around Kosmo. The husky keeps panting, mouth open and tongue hanging out the side. It’s a perfect shot.

“It’s fine,” Keith says, quickly pulling his camera open to take it before Kosmo moves. “It’s not like I have anything better to do anyway.”

Shiro frowns, but only briefly so the photoshoot can continue. The conversation usually flows like that as they take photos, and they’ve had a lot of photoshoots like this. Keith can’t exactly run Shiro’s Instagram by himself, not like Twitter.

“I think you’re right, though,” he mumbles, snapping another picture as Kosmo licks Shiro’s nose. “I think I’m connection-starved.”

That’s the only reasonable explanation for how attached he immediately got to Lance, and for how he thought it was acceptable to pretend to be Shiro just to talk to him.

“I think you’re touch-starved is what you are.”

“Please don’t say things like that to me,” he says.

Shiro laughs, picking Kosmo up and holding him like a cat, supporting his bottom. This will probably be the photo that the companies will choose, thinking Shiro’s arms will convince his followers will come to the event.

“You should make a tinder or something,” Shiro says. He gives Kosmo a kiss on the side of his face. “Make some friends.”

“I don’t think that’s a place to make friends.”

“Just put ‘here to hang out and make friends’ in your bio,” Shiro says. “Some people will believe you, and others will proposition you for dates or sex. It’ll be the best of both worlds.”

“I’ll think about it,” Keith grunts, shaking his head but unable to keep himself from smiling.

They finish taking pictures, and Keith thanks whatever god is out there that no one noticed Shiro. There were a couple of girls at the wall taking pictures, and they kept glancing over, but they were polite enough not to say anything.

“Hey, will you read through a scene with me when we get to set?”

“Sure,” Keith pauses. “As long as it’s not a scene with Adam.”

“No,” Shiro smirks at him. “I save those to read with him.”

Kosmo immediately curls up in a ball in the backseat; apparently, his twenty minutes of being a model has worn him out. As the two slide into the car, Shiro sits back and lets out a breath.

“Speaking of Adam,” he says, “will you go with us if we get drinks on Saturday?”

“Like a third wheel?” Keith asks, lips pouting in confusion, which makes Shiro chuckle.

“Like a ‘no we’re not dating, Allura, nothing to see here’ wheel.”

At the reminder, Keith texts the photos to Allura to send to whoever’s in charge of the Bumble/ASPCA event before he forgets. He’s attaching them to the text as he says, “So, _are_ you guys dating?”

“No,” Shiro says, starting the car, “I can’t tell if he’s flirting or just being nice.”

“You really sound like you’re in middle school, you know that?”

Shiro glances to the side at him, a smile playing on his face. He sing-songs, “You’ll understand one day, when you’re older and in love.”

“Yeah, like that’ll ever happen,” Keith says, barely audible, but Shiro still somehow hears him.

He takes a hand off of the wheel to pat Keith on the back, so hard Keith jerks forward. “Tinder, buddy! Tinder.”

 

It isn’t until after midnight that they get back home from set, and Keith drags his feet as he walks into his apartment. At least he knows he fed Kosmo before he left, so all he has to do is take him out to poop and then he can go to bed.

Or at least that’s what he thinks. Kosmo makes it clear that that’s not what’s going to happen as soon as the door closes. He runs around in circles, whining and jumping up on Keith.

This isn’t “I have to poop” excitement. This is “Finally, you’re home! Let’s go on a walk,” excitement, and Kosmo doesn’t take no for an answer.

Normally, at this hour, Keith would ignore him long enough that he would give up, but he knows he owes him. Huskies have more energy than most dogs already, and Kosmo has two weeks of that pent up in him.

“Kosmo, it’s 12:30 in the morning,” Keith groans, but Kosmo just keeps running circles around him. So, he decides to be a responsible pet owner for once and put Kosmo’s harness on and take him for a walk.

As soon as they’re outside, Kosmo is tugging him out of the parking lot and onto the sidewalk. Keith has to yell “heel” at him 12 times before he finally stops pulling.

Once they’re going at a reasonable pace, Keith pulls his phone out and opens Twitter again. He types in Lance’s username and goes into their DMs out of habit, and he feels heavy just looking at all of the unanswered messages.  
  


**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> whoever said money can’t buy happiness was lying

> id be so much happier if I had money right now  
  


**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> update on group project situation: my group doesn’t know what the hell they’re doing

> the trailer is due this Friday and they won’t agree on the literal plot of it so we haven’t even written it yet

> I want to say I wish I could just do this myself but if I had to I probably wouldn’t turn it in and I’d get a zero  
  


**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> people who pretend they’re Irish today just to get shitfaced are annoying

> why is there a holiday just dedicated to getting drunk

> I mean I like drinking as much as the next guy but REALLY

> I had to clean up puke on the bar tonight I hate everyone

  
**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> My sister and I officially found $35 in change, we are THAT much closer to being able to pay rent ladies and gentlemen

> but I honestly do not know how I am going to do this every single month

> maybe ill just drop out of school and move back home

> then my sister can move back in with her old roommates and it’ll be fine

 

As if knowing he opened his messages, Lance starts typing again, and a message quickly comes through.

 

**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> SHIRO I just cranked out an entire 7 page essay in RECORD TIME

> it’s probably awful but its SOMETHING which means I won’t get a ZERO

> and im gonna email all of my professors and tell them what’s going on so hopefully I can make stuff up

> you don’t even know how you helped me but you did so thank you

 

Okay, now Keith _has_ to respond, otherwise he’ll feel bad. But after this, he shouldn’t talk to Lance anymore. He just has to get him off of his mind and go on with life like this never happened.

 

**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> Sorry! I’ve been super busy while we film. You saw the first episode is premiering in a couple of weeks, right?

> I hope you guys figured out that script!! Just write one and say look guys lets just do this or else we’re not getting this shit done

> Also you should probably look into getting a new job :( you don’t have to love what you do right now but you should at least LIKE it a little bit yknow??

> OMG you did it that fast?! I’M PROUD! You work so hard, it’s impressive. Good job!  
  


**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> YES I CANT WAIT!! ITS GONNA BE AMAAAAAZING

> We decided on something and we’re almost done writing it in a google doc, we’re meeting tomorrow to start filming ugh

> im thinking about it but that’s just soo much work right now. But wow, you work super hard so that means a lot? Thanks shiro love u  
  


**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> everything’s gonna turn out great for you, lance

 

It annoys Keith, how much pride and fondness he feels for Lance. He’s just a fan – he doesn’t even know he’s talking to Keith, so how is Keith _feeling_ so much? Not answering him _ever again_ is going to be harder than he thought.

When he gets home, his eyes droop as he fills Kosmo’s dish up with water. But he has to be proactive about this, to get himself out of this situation once and for all. He takes Shiro’s advice and downloads Tinder, setting up his profile as he lies in bed.

He picks two pictures – a selfie with Shiro, to make him look cool, and a picture Shiro took of him with Kosmo a while ago. His about me was the hardest part, but he settled on, “I like to watch horror movies, listen to a bunch of different kinds of music, and work on my motorcycle. I draw, among other things. Down to make friends and see where things go.”

It made him cringe to type it.

He needs to forget about Lance, though, and the best way to do that is to get someone else on his mind. But with each photo he swipes right on, he’s finding how rare it is for him to get butterflies from just looking at someone’s selfie. There’s just _something_ about Lance.

Keith closes out of the app, and he’s about to give up already and just delete it when he gets a notification that he’s matched with someone named James. He feels his heart leap, just at the validation.

He has to admit, the reason he swiped on James is because he looked a lot like Lance. Same floppy brown haircut, same tan skin. His profile picture is the typical mirror selfie, and his bio is “FIRST OFF IMA SELF MADE BOSS, LOOKIN FOR A MAN THAT’S ON THE NEXT LEVEL AND AINT AFRAID TO LIVE LIFE ON THE EDGE,” which Keith thinks is pretty stupid. But he’s hoping it’s just a joke, and James’s bio also says he’s a film major at LMU, so close enough.

Keith’s heart leaps again as he’s validated even more with a message from James.  
  


**James:**

> hey nice pic

> is that your dog  
  


**Keith:**

> yeah haha

   
God, he’s so bad at this. He pulls his covers up to his chin and Kosmo stares at him as he bites his lip and tries to come up with something more to say.  
  


> his name’s kosmo  
  


**James:**

> cute

> what are you up to?  
 

**Keith:**

> just in bed…on here

   
Seriously, how do people do this?  
  


**James:**

> without me? ;))  
  
         …

         Keith looks up at Kosmo again, as if his dog will explain this message to him. He should’ve waited until he was with Shiro to make this, so at least he could have some guidance.  
  


**Keith:**

> well…yeah. we just met         
  
  
This is not like talking to Lance at all. But he has to do this. He can’t keep comparing people to Lance.  
  


**James:**

> hahaha want to get a drink or something?  
  


**Keith:**

> like right now?  
 

**James:**

> yeah

**  
Keith:**

> it’s almost 1:30am on a Monday  
  


**James:**

> yeah and?

> it’s midterms dude it’s fine  
  


**Keith:**

> well, im pretty exhausted right now but

> tomorrow, maybe?  
 

**James:**

> ugh sure

> we can figure out when and where tomorrow  
  


**Keith:**

> okay

 

Keith drops his phone on his bedside table and finally lets his eyes close. He struggles to force himself to feel content with this, but he knows Shiro would be proud.

 ****  
TUESDAY, MARCH 19  
  


Shiro was so thrilled that Keith had a ‘date,’ that after insisting he show him James’s profile, he gave Keith the entire day off. He claimed that Adam could grab him coffee, and anything else he needed, he could just ask someone else’s assistant for or get himself.

It wasn’t a great way to make Keith feel needed, but he was so exhausted when Shiro told him that he didn’t mind it in the slightest. He just waltzed out of Shiro’s apartment and back into his own, burying himself under his covers.

But now that he’s awake with nothing to keep his mind busy, he’s getting antsy. He and James agreed to meet at Altea Bar and Grill at 8 p.m., and it’s now 6:30, and Keith has already put it into Google Maps three times despite passing the place often and knowing exactly where it is.

Needless to say, he has no idea how to prepare for a ‘date,’ or whatever this is. He tucks and untucks his hair behind his ears twice before realizing it doesn’t matter what he does to his hair, because it’s going to be matted down with a motorcycle helmet soon.

He tries not to focus on his outfit too much, either. He just throws his biker jacket over a red t-shirt, slips on black jeans, and calls it fashion.

Eventually, with nothing else to do, he decides to show up at the bar early and get used to his surroundings before meeting a whole new person in them. In fact, he speeds there, finding himself just wanting to get it over with.

The bar is impressively packed for a Tuesday night, mostly with college students destressing from midterms. It’s right by LMU, so it makes sense, but it’s still a shock to Keith’s system. He stands in the doorway for a few moments before deciding to suck it up and get a seat.

There’s a single bartender with violet hair up in a bun filling everyone’s orders at the other end of the bar. Keith bites on his thumbnail, trying to ease his nerves before she gets to him.

He can’t decide if he’s more worried that James will be awful or that he’ll be amazing. Both would be equally detrimental, for Keith at least. Being amazing would give James more opportunity to be awful in the future.

But Keith thinks he’s ready to let someone in, finally. Or at least he _wants_ to be. The only thing is he kind of wants that someone to be Lance, even though it’s impossible at this point.

“Hey there, lone wolf,” the bartender says. “Can I get you anything?”

“Um,” Keith’s voice cracks as he pushes the words out, licking his lips, “just a water for now, thanks.”

She fills a cup and sets it in front of him before moving on to the next person, and Keith sucks the water down greedily. He’s suddenly parched out of nowhere. He really, really just wants this over and done with, so he doesn’t have to feel this anticipation anymore.

He pulls out his phone to check the time: 7:37. Just 23 more minutes. The urge to check his messages with Lance comes as soon as he unlocks it, but he has to will himself not to. That’s the whole point of being here.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” someone says, and Keith looks up and around in hope that he got the time wrong and it’s James because they were actually meant to meet at 7:30 or something. “I was working on a group project and we went way later than we thought.”

It’s not James, but another bartender who looks a lot like James. Keith blinks, watching him tuck a towel in his back pocket. From the side, it kind of looks like…Lance.

But it can’t be. He’s just projecting, since he’s trying so hard not to think about Lance.

The violet-haired bartender goes over to the lookalike, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You need to take a break, Lance.”

Keith holds his breath. Okay, so, they have the same name. So what? Plenty of boys in their twenty-somethings are named Lance and have tan skin and floppy brown hair.

The lookalike puts both of his hands on the other bartender’s shoulders and shakes her. “Money, Acxa! I need money!”

Plenty of boys in their twenty-somethings are also bartenders who need money. It’s fine. Yet, Keith still hasn’t breathed out, and he’s watching his every move.

Acxa laughs, playfully shoving him away from her. “Go cover your side of the bar. This rush almost killed me without you.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he says, and of course, _of course_ , he comes right up to Keith with a big grin on his face. The grin falters for just a moment, almost as if he somehow recognizes Keith too, before it’s spread back on his face. “Hey man, can I get you anything other than water?”

Keith stares, fully unable to breathe now. It _is_ Lance – thesoftshiro, with his dimples and freckles and piercing blue eyes. It’s Lance. Keith’s not actually Shiro. And he was not prepared for this.

“Um, uh, yeah, actually,” he stammers, dropping his phone. He definitely needs alcohol now. “Can you make something sweet? Like an amaretto sour or something?”

“Yeah, I can do an amaretto sour,” he says, leaning onto the bar on his elbows. “Can I just see your ID?”

Keith fumbles with his wallet and ends up just showing Lance his ID through the clear film it sits behind instead of trying to pull it out. He lets out a long breath and sucks another deep breath in.

“Perfect, Keith,” he says, tapping the bar. “I’ll get that for ya.”

Then, he smirks – he actually smirks. One dimple dips in, and Keith feels the same butterflies he felt when looking at Lance’s selfies. This is unreal.

Lance makes the drink with such ease that Keith can’t help but watch him. He flicks his wrist as he pours various things into a shaker, a hint of that smirk still on his face. Keith’s eyes wander to his bicep flexing beneath the sleeve of his black t-shirt.

He watches, while Lance shakes the drink and pours it into a glass full of ice, for any sign that he hates this job. It’s an invasion of privacy, or at least it feels like one. He keeps his gaze settled back down on his hands until Lance wanders back over to serve him the drink.

Lance rests his hands on the edge of the bar, leaning against it again. He does a brief glance around at everyone else as Keith takes a sip of the drink, before he looks back at him.

The cocktail goes down Keith’s throat easily, not even tasting like alcohol, and he holds his breath again. He prepares himself for confrontation and tries to think of any possible way Lance could know he’s the one he’s been talking to.

“So, do you go to LMU?” Lance asks finally, and Keith relaxes only slightly.

“No, uh,” Keith opens and closes his mouth a few times, “no.”

Lance hesitates then – he must have been expecting a ‘yes.’ For just a second or two, Keith can see his mind racing.

“So, what are you doing here by yourself if you’re not escaping exams?” He asks, voice light. “It’s kind of sad, man.”

“I’m actually—” he starts, and he sees Lance’s face drop only milliseconds before he feels a hand on his back. It’s James, his hair slicked back with just one piece hanging over his eyes. He does look like Lance, but at the same time not at all.

“Hey,” he says. “Keith, right?”

“Yeah,” Keith says, and James slides onto the seat beside him.

“’Sup, man?” he says to Lance, who has a smile plastered on his face again. “Gin and tonic, and I’ll pay for whatever he got.”

“Yooou got it, James,” Lance says. “Just show me your ID, I have cameras on me.”

 _They know each other_ repeats in Keith’s mind as James purses his lips and pulls out his wallet. Lance barely looks at his ID. Well, of course they know each other. They’re both 21-year-old film majors that go to LMU, apparently. They must have classes together. But still, this night just keeps getting weirder for Keith.

“So, your profile said you go to LMU?” Keith asks, stealing Lance’s opening line in an attempt to start this ‘date’ off on the least awkward note despite the circumstances.

“Yup,” James leans more toward Keith with eyes full of pride, as if this is the single greatest accomplishment anyone could have. “I’m a film major.”

“Oh, cool,” Keith says, trying to sound like it wasn’t one of the sole reasons he swiped on him anyway. “What do you want to do with it?”

“Direct,” he says. “And I get the highest grades in the film school, so I wouldn’t be surprised if I end up being the next Steven Spielberg.”

Keith glances at Lance, who’s finishing up making the gin and tonic, willing some of his film knowledge to transfer to his brain. He’s heard the name, obviously. He just doesn’t know what to say next.

“He’s the guy who directed… _Jaws_?” He sputters out, just as Lance sets the drink down.

“Who, Steven Spielberg?” Lance asks, perking up at the name of his favorite movie, and James looks at him with the hint of a glare. Lance shrugs before moving on to serve a couple that just sat down. It has got to be the cutest thing Keith has ever seen.

“Yeah,” James says, taking a swig of his drip and looking back at Keith, “ _Jaws_ and like a dozen other amazing films. What’d you say your major was again?”

“Oh, I-I don’t have one.”

“You’re undecided?”

“No, I’m not in school,” Keith says, and he’s almost ashamed to say it this time around, to someone who seems so proud that they’re going to LMU. He takes another drink of his amaretto sour and looks away before he can see James’s reaction.

Unexpectedly, James leans even more toward Keith, resting his elbow on the countertop and his cheek in his palm. “What do you do, then?”

“I’m a personal assistant and, um,” he looks around quickly for Lance, ensuring he’s out of earshot before continuing, “social media manager. For Takashi Shirogane, the actor.”

“Oh, I know him. Lance is obsessed with that guy,” James juts his chin in Lance’s direction. “He did a whole speech on him in our public speaking class last year.”

Keith cringes. Not exactly a tattoo of Shiro’s face, but it’s close. Yet his evident crush shows no sign of receding.

“Yeah, he’s a cool guy,” he says. “He pays me well enough.”

“I should’ve had you pay for our drinks then,” James laughs, and his hand brushes against Keith’s arm.

“Ha, well, I don’t make _that_ much.”

They continue to talk about inconsequential things, and Lance only returns to them once to get James another gin and tonic. He fills Keith’s water glass without him asking while Keith nurses his single amaretto sour, and Keith feels his insides go soft.

The more James drinks, the more he touches and the closer he gets to Keith. This is all new, and Keith really isn’t sure what’s going on or what to do. The closer he gets, and the more he talks to him, the less James looks like Lance.

“You wanna get out of here?” James asks eventually, his eyes flicking to the door and then back at Keith. His cheeks are starting to flush pink.

“Uh, sure.”

They pay the tab and start to head to the door. James wraps an arm around Keith’s back, hand resting on his hip. Every possibility of what is about to happen is running through Keith’s mind.

“Hey, wait!” he jumps at Lance’s desperate voice, showing a hint of the less-confident version of himself Keith has gotten to know through Twitter for the first time all night. He and James turn back around. “James, don’t forget to send me that footage so I can start editing it tonight.”

James just waves him off, pulling Keith forward and forcing him to turn back toward the door. So, he’s part of that group that Lance has been frustrated about, the one that’s been making him feel like he isn’t being heard.

This newfound information inspires action in Keith, but he isn’t sure what kind of action, exactly. What is he going to do, hit the guy? Give him a nice talking-to about the etiquette of group projects? James doesn’t even know that he’s aware of anything about Lance other than the fact that he’s a bartender who gave a speech on Shiro.

“That your bike?” James asks, forcing him back to the present, arm still around Keith and pointing at his motorcycle with his free hand.

“Yeah,” Keith breathes.

“What do you say you give me a ride, huh?” James spins Keith around so he’s in front of him, places his hands on Keith’s waist and pulls him closer. “Back to your place?”

 _And at your place, too?_ His expression seems to suggest.

“Um, well, I only have one helm—”

He cuts him off with a kiss: Keith’s first real kiss in about a decade. Keith’s eyes fly open as James’s lips press harshly against his. His first thought in that moment, for some reason, is Lance – his own eyes wide as he reminded James to send him what they worked on.

Lance is probably a much better kisser. A _good_ kisser. Keith sighs out of his nose, annoyed at his own thoughts, and closes his eyes, willing himself to enjoy this.

This is what he wanted. He’s touch- and connection-starved.

But James’s tongue pushes its way through Keith’s lips far too soon and meets his own with enthusiasm. His hand slides under Keith’s shirt and up his back, sending chills up Keith’s spine. What is happening? Keith takes the first opportunity available to pull away.

“I actually,” he starts, and James leans into another kiss, forcing him to pull away again. “I actually have to go.”

James tightens his grip on Keith’s waist, pulling him closer. Keith has to bring his hands up and push at James’s chest.

“Seriously. I have to go.”

He pushes into a turn, breaking free from James, and takes long, quick strides toward his bike. Luckily, James stays where he is, confused.

“What the hell, dude?” he asks as Keith slips his helmet on. “I paid for your drink.”

“I’ll Venmo you, or something,” Keith answers quickly, probably not even audible enough to reach James.

He fumbles with his keys before pushing one into the ignition and turning it. He puts the bike in neutral, pressing the kill switch back to start, pulling the clutch, and hitting the starter button in natural movements that easily juxtapose the strange feeling in his gut as he zooms out of the parking lot.  
  


-  
 

“Wait, who was it?” Rachel asks through a mouthful of ramen from her side of her and Lance’s shared room. Her half is always a lot cleaner and more decorated than Lance’s, with her gray and magenta sheets clear of discarded clothes, fairy lights strung on her headboard, and various posters taped up without a risk of falling.

“I don’t know, some guy named Keith,” he says. His voice is a bit too high pitched for his liking – he can feel himself getting annoying. He turns back to his laptop and tries to make his voice calmer. “He said he didn’t go to Loyola. He was really hot.”

“And what’s the problem?”

“Were you even listening to me?” he asks, already raising his voice again and turning back to her.

She leans back against her wall, right under her poster of Lin-Manuel Miranda as Alexander Hamilton, and takes another bite of her ramen. “You talk too fast.”

Lance groans, but he’s glad Rachel closes at Starbucks tomorrow and is even awake for him to complain to.

“The problem is he actually seemed kind of into me and then _James_ showed up.”

Even after they left, his shift passed, and Lance got his tips from last week, clocked out, and drove home, it was still bothering him. That good-looking, soft-spoken boy was on a date with James Griffin, of all people.

And Lance knows it was a date, since James spent the last hour of the time with their group talking about how he was going to get laid tonight.

“That asshole in my narrative film production group,” he tells her. He’s complained about James to Rachel more than once but has most likely exclusively referred to him as “dick” or “asshole.”

What’s even more frustrating is that James still hasn’t emailed Lance the footage from today. So not only is he going to have less time to edit, he has to sit here and wonder if it’s because James and Keith have been having wild sex for the last three hours. Or, even more disheartening, if they’re cuddling and sharing secrets with each other.

He really wishes he wasn’t this way. He doesn’t even know Keith. He could be a complete dick, just like James. And Lance is sure to be thinking of someone new in a couple of days, anyway.

But Lance has more hours during spring break, and they finally think they’ll be able to secure enough to pay for everything as long as they spend as little on groceries as possible. So, he has a full month to save and look for a less stressful, higher-paying job and thus has room to worry about things like this again.

“Oh great, and look at this,” he says, turning his laptop so Rachel can see the tweet he’s looking at. “Shiro has barely messaged me back, but he’s been DMing a bunch of other people.”

Rachel sets her cup of ramen on her desk and leans forward so she can read the screenshot Lance’s mutual, Sarah, posted. It has to be at least the tenth one he’s seen. Shiro replied to Sarah’s message about season 2, telling her she’s just going to have to “wait and see” what happens with Lotor’s character.

For weeks, he was seemingly the only one Shiro was DMing, and now all of a sudden, Shiro’s talking to everyone.

“You know you don’t have to be the only one for it to matter, Lance,” Rachel says.

“I guess.”

“The same applies to the thing with that Keith guy!” she says, talking with her hands now in her expressive, I-just-had-an-epiphany type of way. “Just because he was on a date with James, doesn’t mean he wasn’t interested or that he’s not gonna come back to the bar by himself to get your number.”

“That’d never happen to me,” Lance mumbles.

“You know there’s nothing wrong with you, right?”

“Not objectively,” he says. “I’m good-looking and nice. But tell that to Nyma. And Erin, Nina, Alaina, Bennett, Emilio…”

She gives him a look.

“I could go on.”

“Yeah, well those people just suck and weren’t worth your time in the first place,” Rachel says. “Also, anyone named Bennett is probably a frat boy who brags about giving a dollar to a homeless person. Do you want someone like that to love you?”

“He  _was_ in Delta Sig,” Lance says, a small smile on his face.

“See!”

He nearly whispers, “But he was funny and had really good bone structure.”

“There is nothing wrong with you, Lancito!” She jumps up from her bed, only to pounce into a hug and knock Lance over. “Nothing! Do you hear me?”

He giggles as she blows a raspberry on his cheek, arms wrapped around him. Over it, he hears his phone buzz. It could be three things – Shiro DMing him, Hunk texting an update on their friends’ spontaneous trip, or James finally emailing him the footage. All are equally important.

“Okay! You’ve convinced me!”

She hasn’t, but he can try to put his insecurities aside again to make her think she has. Rachel gets off of him but sits beside him still as he looks for his phone.

“In all seriousness, though,” she says. “Don’t you think you should find a therapist here? We only go home in the summer.”

Lance flings his sheets around and throws his clothes on his floor, but his phone is nowhere to be found. “Therapists cost money,” he sings, lifting his laptop. Nope. Not there either.

“Okay, well, do you—”

“Shh,” Lance says, hearing his phone buzz again. He lifts his pillow, and there it is. “Aha!”

“Do you, like, use what Dr. Thornton and you have talked about?” Rachel continues without missing a beat. “There’s no point if you’re not implementing it.”

James has officially sent him the footage; Keith must have finally left his apartment. _And_ Hunk has texted him. But still nothing from Shiro, which makes his stomach sink whether he wants it to or not.

“Lance?”

He looks up from his phone. “Um, it’s a lot to remember. And I suck at meditating, like my brain doesn’t shut the hell up.”

“Well, you won’t get better at it if you don’t try—”

“Can we not talk about this right now?” Lance snaps without really meaning to, and Rachel sinks back. “Ugh, sorry, Rach. It’s just a lot.”

“I’m just worried about you,” she says quietly, nudging him.

“I’m fine,” he tries to smile, showing her his phone. “Look, my friends are coming on Friday.”  
  


**Hunkules <3:**

> FYI me, Matt, and Pidge just bought PLANE TICKETS TO LA!!

> Flying into LAX at 2:36pm on Friday  
  


Rachel perks back up, grin reappearing. “Matt’s coming?”

“Well, yeah, obviously. He’s one of my best friends,” Lance says, but then he studies his sister a little longer. He squints at the way she pulls her long, fluffy hair to the side, the way her cheeks seem a tad bit pinker, and the shy way the corners of her lips turn up. “Eww! Miss me with _that_ shit!”

“What?!” she asks. “I was just wondering! He hasn’t told me.”

“Eww! You guys talk?”

She nudges him again, harder this time – more like a push. “You guys have been friends for years, of course we talk. I talk to all your friends.”

“Sooo, why’d you only ask about Matt?”

She shrugs, trying to look nonchalant. But Lance knows his twin; he knows the way she looks when she has a crush on someone. Rachel made the same face when she had a crush on some girl she met at an audition. She tried to play it off like she was just admiring the girl’s skills, but she totally wanted to kiss her.

“I talk to him more than the others, that’s all.”

“Mhmm, yeah, okay.”

Now she really pushes him. “We’re friends! So, are they staying here or what? We don’t have a lot of room.”

“Oh, I see,” Lance says, crossing his arms. “You want them to stay here, where there’s limited space to sleep, so you can cuddle with him.”

“Oh my god,” Rachel gets out of his bed and hurries to their bedroom door. “I’m going to get ready for bed.”

“You mean get ready to dream of Matt Holt.”

“Laance!” she whines.

“You can’t hide the truth, Rachel.”

“You can’t handle the truth,” she says, attempting to imitate Jack Nicholson on the short walk to the bathroom. Lance jumps out of bed, shutting his laptop and carrying it with him as he follows her.

“You did not just quote _A Few Good Men_ at me.”

“I know movies, too,” she grins, wetting her toothbrush under the sink.

“Sure, Miss Arby’s Commercial,” Lance says. Pride fills him as Rachel just rolls her eyes, not even taking her toothbrush out of her mouth to argue back. “I’m going to stay up for a little while. James finally sent me the stuff. Not too late though, I don’t think I have any more free absences in my 8 a.m.”

“’Kay,” Rachel says through toothpaste, then spits into the sink. “Night, twin. Te amo.”

“Te amo, twin.”

He’s feeling really light in that moment, but as soon as he sits down in the living room and Rachel shuts off the lights and goes to bed, everything gets heavy.

For starters, he probably went too far and annoyed Rachel about Matt. They really could just be friends; he doesn’t know. But then there’s the fact that she really gave off that vibe: the bright-eyed, bashful vibe that Lance loves to see other people give off.

It just reminds him, though, that he hasn’t had a crush in years without hating himself for it. Other people are cute, but whenever _he_ has a crush, he does and feels everything completely over the top and ruins everything.

Maybe he should get a therapist he sees more regularly. Feeling this way is getting old, and he’s starting to annoy _himself._

After he finds a new job, he guesses.

When he opens up his laptop, he pulls open a blank Word document instead of Adobe Premiere. Just for the time being, he tries to at least drudge up any solid memory of what Dr. Thornton has told him. Through all of the worksheets, advice, and attempted meditation, all he can really remember is the concept of positive affirmations.

 _Be realistic when writing them. You’re not trying to make yourself be perfect by any means,_ he remembers Dr. Thornton saying. _Then repeat them daily, until you know them by heart, and soon they’ll become your new automatic response._

His fingers hover above the keyboard, hesitating. He always found these stupid. Like repeating words to yourself is ever going to help.

 _Well, you’re repeating negative words to yourself and they’re affecting you, aren’t they?_ Dr. Thornton’s voice rings in his head.

“Ugh,” Lance grumbles to himself. He might as well try. He sets to typing, slow and steady, as he bites his lip and thinks. He tries to remember the way Dr. Thornton phrased things in his examples.

 

_\- My love will not burden or annoy the right people. I will be enough for the right people, not too much or too little._

 

God, this feels so stupid.

 

_\- I can feel annoying without that actually defining me. I don’t have to believe the critical voice telling me I am 100% annoying._

 

_\- I don’t have to be perfect, the best, or the only one to matter._

_\- I am allowed to take up space, even though not everyone will like or agree with me._

_\- Other’s opinions of me don’t define me. My own view of myself defines my reality._

It takes a solid half hour to come up with those. 

Five is enough, right? Because every word he types makes him feel like an idiot. Like, he knows that the statements are true…logically. But when applied to him? Absolutely false.

Lance reads through them, changing the font, size, and color of the words as if that will make them easier to digest. It’s not any better the first, second, or third time he scans through them.

Ugh. He just can’t. He can’t get himself to believe a single crumb of these words for even a second.

Lance closes out of the document without saving it and opens up his email. He downloads today’s footage, pulls up Adobe Premiere, and gets in his editing zone. That helps him a lot more than any _words_ can, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Updates for this will be every other Friday. 
> 
> I'm currently working on this in addition to an original manuscript that I hope to get published! If you'd like to see when I update this/post on here and support me in that endeavor, you can follow me on twitter: [@stephclaires](http://www.twitter.com/stephclaires)  
> 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lance has the best day of his life, and Keith has the worst day of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean to make pidge annoying it just happened. also im a big fan of best friend's sibling/sibling's best friend ships and you're just gonna have to deal with it sadklfjlakjf hope u enjoy!! this is the last chapter before lance and keith are in eachother's lives for real :)

**FRIDAY, MARCH 22**   
  


“Psst, class is over.”

Lance feels a tap on his shoulder as he blinks his heavy eyes open. Nadia Rizavi, the one and only friend he’s kept through his entire three years at LMU, stands above him, waving her hand in his face. Around them, everyone is slinging backpacks over their shoulders and scooting their seats out from the tables.

“Thanks,” he says, voice still thick with sleep.

He pulls himself up and stretches. Lance managed to make it through his 8 a.m. class and his 11:30 class without falling asleep, but Narrative Film Production got him. How was he supposed to fight it when the lights were out the whole time, and the entire class was spent watching group projects and listening to the professor critique them?

“Your trailer was awesome,” Nadia says as Lance gathers his own things and they head to the door. “You missed it. Professor Croft loved your editing, and James was seething because she said the content itself wasn’t focused enough and that it was clear no one was leading the group.”

“He’s so worried someone will take his spot as the top student in the film college,” Lance laughs, yawning. “But he doesn’t have to worry about me. I have a C in at least two classes.”

He was up until 4 a.m. editing their project, and he probably didn’t end up falling asleep until 5. He considered skipping class today, but not even he could convince himself that was a good idea, with his grades and everything.

Lance wants to say it’s not his fault that the project took so long, but that’d be a lie. On Tuesday, he edited for about twenty minutes before going on Instagram and trying to find that Keith guy. (FYI – he didn’t find him. The closest he found was some guy named Keith from L.A. that Shiro follows, who hadn’t posted since last year, and whose profile was entirely art and zero selfies. Probably not his guy. He was way too hot to not take a single selfie.)

Plus, Lance underestimated exactly how long it would take. The final project due in May is an 8-minute film, and this was supposed to be a 2- to 3-minute trailer for it. It really _shouldn’t_ have taken as long as it did, but he didn’t take his perfectionism into account.

At least he got it done. And now he’s going to pick up his friends from the airport and spend an entire week without worry. Er, at least with less worry than usual.

“I wish I’d seen yours,” he tells Nadia sheepishly, holding the door open for her.

“No biggie,” she says. “Croft tore me and my editing a new one, anyway. Said it didn’t match the tone well, or whatever. I’ll email it to you if you really want to see it.”

“Yes, definitely!” Lance says, and Nadia turns left to head toward the student center, while Lance turns right. “Have a good spring break!” he calls to her.

“You too!” she calls back.

He makes his long trek to his car, checking his phone every two minutes to see if Hunk texted him saying they landed. He was running late this morning and had to park in Daum Lot, all the way across campus from the communication arts building, instead of his usual spot in the Burns Lot. He stops worrying so much only when he gets to his car without a text – LAX, at the very least, isn’t too far from campus.

And he makes it just in time. Hunk, Pidge, and Matt drag their suitcases out of the baggage claim doors as soon as Lance pulls in, and adrenaline sparks through him when he sees them. In a split second, he jolts awake and is no longer sleepy.

He pops his trunk and jumps out, forcing Hunk to drop his bag as he runs to hug him. Hunk gives the best hugs, he swears. He’s like a big teddy bear, and Lance has been needing one of his hugs for a while now. “Missed you, buddy,” Hunk chuckles, patting his back.

“You’re alive!” Pidge says, hugging Lance next. “We were worried you were dead and someone was impersonating you in your text messages.”

“Nope, just dying by stress,” Lance laughs, pulling away and looking to Matt, who’s on his phone. He looks up, dabbing at Lance, and Lance dabs back.

God, it’s good to be back with his friends, even if it’s only for a couple of days.

They pile their luggage into the trunk, and Matt, the tallest, takes the passenger seat while Hunk and Pidge take the back. Lance glances at Matt as he puts the car in drive.

The first words out of his mouth, just blurted out, are, “So, do you like my sister?” Pidge nearly loses it as Matt’s head snaps up.

“Um…” Matt says, locking his phone and putting it face down on his lap. “What?”

Pidge keeps giggling, and Lance smirks.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” he says, breaking at a red light. “That’s valid. Rachel’s the best member of the female species, and you’re lucky she’s giving you the time of day.”

“You’re right,” Matt laughs nervously. “But how do you—”

“She may have mentioned that you guys were talking.”

Lance knows that, stereotypically, he’s supposed to be pissed off. But he’s not – he can’t tell how he feels, exactly, but he knows it’s not that.

Regardless, it’s hilarious to see the look on Matt’s face once Lance pulls into the Starbucks parking lot.

“Wait, are we—” Matt starts.

“Yeah,” Lance says, parking and pulling his key from the ignition. “She has a long shift today, and she wanted me to stop on the way home so she could say hi.”

“He’s always going on and on about how pretty and funny she is,” Pidge says as she gets out of the car. “He won’t shut up about her, actually.”

“We have a whole separate group chat dedicated to him talking about Rachel,” Hunk adds, throwing his door shut. “It’s cute.”

“You guys,” Matt groans, “I will _end_ you.”

“You have a group chat without me?” Lance pouts.

“It’s just Matt sending screenshots and calling Rachel pretty,” Pidge says. “We don’t even respond.”

“Awww. Well, thanks,” Lance says, drawing the words out. They all look at him with some form of questioning look on their faces. “We’re twins, so any nice thing you say about her, you say about me.”

“I don’t think it works like that,” Matt says, opening the door.

Lance is about to respond, but before he can, a familiar head of hair walks out with a tray of drinks in his hands. It’s Keith – or at least Lance _thinks_. He doesn’t exactly remember every detail of his face, but not many people in L.A. have a mullet. In fact, he’s pretty sure no one in L.A. has a mullet.

Except Keith.

Before he can get a good look at him, the guy ducks his head, muttering a ‘thank you’ to Matt in a voice that’s so quiet Lance can’t make out if it’s familiar or not. He does a doubletake, but it’s no use. Keith’s back is even less familiar than his face.

He’s probably just seeing what he wants to see. There’re definitely more guys in L.A. with longer hair, probably more than he realizes. Still, Lance can’t get his brain to shut up about how _maybe Keith goes to Rachel’s Starbucks._ He’d ask her what that guy’s name was if he wasn’t already sure that’d be annoying.

They all file in, and he urges himself to forget about it. Rachel looks up from behind the counter as she makes a drink. A huge smile spreads across her face. “Ahhh! You’re here!”

Matt’s the last one in, holding the door open for everyone like the gentleman he is. Rachel takes approximately two steps to put the drink on the counter, and she still manages to trip on her feet when she sees him.

She catches herself and takes a deep breath. “Um, nitro cold brew for Nina,” she calls out. “Are you guys staying with us while you’re here?” she asks as they approach.

“Yeah,” Hunk says, scratching his head. “We, uh, couldn’t really afford a hotel.”

“It’ll be cramped, but that’ll make it more fun,” Lance insists, as if he has to argue for this and as if Rachel looks upset at all.

“Cool,” she says, her eyes flicking to Matt again. “I can make breakfast. Um, for everyone, obviously.”

Lance turns to look at Matt, who has the biggest heart eyes and dopiest smile he’s ever seen. He’s probably thinking about how cute she looks in her headset or something.

The whole time they wait in line and order from Rachel’s coworker Andrew, Rachel and Matt glance at each other with such stupid looks on their faces. Lance smiles to himself, staring down at his feet. He’s happy – he is. That has to be what this feeling in his gut is.

It’s just…he still wishes someone would look at him like that.

He’s able to shake it off, though, of course. His friends are in town! Everything is great! He couldn’t completely wallow in his self-pity if he tried.

After a reluctant goodbye to Rachel, his friends insist on going to the beach. He tells them it’s still pretty cold this time of year, especially with the wind chill, but they refuse to listen. ‘There’s still snow in Rhode Island!’ they say, ‘Let us live!’

Well, Pidge says that. Hunk lathers on sunscreen in the backseat in his silent protest, pretending Lance never said no in the first place, and Matt airdrops Lance a photo of a cat with tears in its eyes.

It’s three against one. So instead of doing anything practical, like going to In ‘n’ Out or the Walk of Fame, they stop at Lance’s apartment to change and then head to Venice Beach. The three put on their bathing suits and dress like it’s 98 degrees out, while Lance stays in his jeans and hoodie.

It’s a tad warmer and his friends last longer than he thought, he’ll give them that. But he can tell they’re forcing their smiles and pretending the wind is nice and toasty.

It all goes downhill when Hunk and Matt take their shirts off and attempt to go in the water. Chilling in cold sand is one thing, but they come yelling back to shore almost the second they step foot in the ocean.

“Told you so,” Lance sings, and they glare at him.

Pidge tries to laugh, but her teeth chatter and the wind nearly rips her glasses off her face. Lance, on the other hand, does laugh. And he forgets.

He forgets all about his rent situation as Pidge, Hunk, and Matt pay way too much money for hoodies on the walk back to Lance’s car. He forgets about his grades as they stuff their faces with shitty tacos from Jack in the Box. He even forgets his romantic shortcomings that night as Rachel pulls their hair back with headbands and coats each of their faces – including Matt’s – with a face mask. He really is happy.

He’s not reminded again until he wakes up to a thump beside him at midnight. Everyone but Rachel was in bed by nine, Lance still only running on a few hours of sleep and the rest of them adjusting to the time change.

There’s Matt’s giggles and Rachel shushing him. Lance closes his eyes again and listens.

“You’re going to wake my brother,” Rachel whispers.

There’s another sound: Matt rolling over, probably. The thump was most likely him pouncing on her to wake her – he does that.

“About Lance,” he says, and there’s a pause. “Why did he give me the impression you liked me?”

Shit. Lance feels like every organ in his body is sinking. He always messes up and says the wrong thing. Of course, Matt had no idea.

“Um,” Rachel starts, “I’ve been flirting with you this whole time, were you not aware?”

“I am now.”

“You’re literally the dumbest person I know.”

“What does that make you then, huh?” Matt asks, and the playfulness in his tone makes Lance relax. “Moronsexual?”

“Again,” Rachel giggles. “The dumbest person I know.”

There’s some rustling, and Lance peaks to see Matt crawling under the covers beside Rachel. It’s weird, for multiple reasons, and Lance has an even harder time understanding what he’s feeling than before. It’s a mix of jealousy, anger at himself for feeling jealous, happiness, and sadness.

“But you do like me, then?” Matt asks, so quiet now that Lance has to strain himself to hear.

“Yeah.”

She says it so simply and calmly, and there’s the jealousy again. If Lance were in this situation, he’d probably go on a long rant about how of course he likes them because of 500 reasons why the other person is amazing. He’d never be able to just say “Yeah.”

“So, if I kissed you right now, that’d be fine?”

Rachel’s voice breaks. “Entirely fine.”

Then, of course, there’s the sound of lips meeting and the two of them breathing. Lance can’t contain himself anymore, so he groans.

“Please don’t have sex while I’m here,” he whines. “I was gonna let you have this and not say anything, but I am in fact awake. Please.”

The sound of them pulling apart. Lance winces.

“Oh my god,” Rachel says. “¿Quién crees que soy?”

“What’d you just say?” he hears Matt whisper, but Rachel ignores him.

“No sé!” Lance says. “You don’t see each other often!”

A quiet washes about the room as everyone tries to figure out what to do or say now. It’s weird. Lance ruined it. He knows he did. So, he grabs his phone and gets up to give them the space they initially wanted.

“What’d you say?” Matt asks again as Lance pads to the open door.

“I just asked him who he thought I was,” Rachel says. “It wasn’t anything mean.”

“Oh,” Matt says, and Lance shuts the door behind him.

He steps out into the kitchen with a sigh. He’s silently hoping that Matt will come back out and apologize for waking him, and they can all go back to sleep and pretend this never happened in the morning. But he never does.

Instead, he and Rachel are probably cuddling and back to being romantic.

He opens the cupboard and takes out his favorite shark mug (the opening is literally the shark’s mouth) as quietly as possible. On the other side of the counter is the living room, where Hunk and Pidge are asleep on the floor. Matt had taken the couch, which is stupid if he had just been planning on joining Rachel all along.

Ugh. Lance shakes his head. He’s trying not to be angry, or at least not take his anger toward himself out on his friend.

Pidge is snoring loud as hell, and Lance reasons with himself that her snores would no doubt drown out the sound of the tea kettle, and he can take it off of the stove before it gets too loud. He just wants tea and to talk to Shiro. So, he puts water on and opens up Twitter.

 

**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**  

> shiro can you please teach me how to flirt  
  


**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> uhhhh I’m terrible at it lmfao

> any reason you’re thinking about this at 12:23am

   
 **Lance (@thesoftshiro)**  

> im just tired of being ALONE

> im at the point where im just getting attached to cute guys I serve at work and hope they’ll come back in and I can see them again…its so DUMB

> and my sister and my best friend are currently canoodling in my room

> im trying not to be mad because they both deserve to be happy but DON’T I DESERVE TO BE HAPPY TOO

> ugh

> sdhfakjhfkjafhdkjfhaskjffsj

> adsafkljf

> ASDFKSFJSLFJ

> I’m just going to be alone forever, my sister and matt will get married and I will be sitting in the back with a beard and emotionless eyes, clapping along with everyone but unfeeling

 

**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> omg lance don’t be dramatic you’re not going to be alone forever

> if it’s your sister and best friend’s wedding, wouldn’t you be the best man? At least you’ll be at the FRONT with a beard and emotionless eyes, clapping along with everyone but unfeeling.

 

Lance lets out a stifled laugh, covering his mouth with his hands. As per usual, Shiro’s so easily able to make him feel better. It’s just him – his presence, the things he says. It makes everything lighter.

 

**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> you got me there

> sorry if I’m keeping you up  
  


**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> you’re not

 

A pause. Typing bubble, no typing bubble. Then it reappears.

 

> I like talking to you

> listen, lance, I barely know you and I know you’re an amazing dude. you’re never not enough or too much for someone who appreciates you and who is worthy of your time

> I know that’s cheesy but

> it’s true.

> especially for you

 

Lance reads through the messages at least ten times. They remind him of the affirmations he tried to write a few days ago. ‘I will be enough for the right people, not too much or too little.’

It sounds better coming from Shiro, truer and more realistic. Well, everything sounds better when Shiro says it.

“Matt, what the hell are you doing?” Pidge’s voice, scratchy from sleep, asks. She’s sitting up, looking right at Lance. In that moment, the tea kettle starts to scream. It must have been getting louder and louder all this time, while Lance fixated on the messages from Shiro.

He scrambles to pull it from the heat, nearly burning his hand in the process. “Um,” he chokes out.

“Oh, it’s you,” Pidge whispers, her glasses on now. “Lance, what the hell are you doing?”

“Um,” he says again. He takes a silent moment to rummage through all of his bags of loose leaf. He settles on a chamomile to make his brain slow down, even though it tastes like dirt. “Making tea.”

She gets up, tiptoeing toward him while he gets a teaspoon of the mix into the tea ball and drops it into his mug before pouring the water over it. Even when he finishes, he keeps his eyes on the cup and wills the next five minutes to go by quickly.

“I mean, why are you awake?” she asks as the seconds tick by. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says, still not turning. “Just stressed. Do you want some tea? I always make too much water.”

“You can talk to us, you know.”

He knows, yes. He’s done it before, on a few rare occasions he didn’t feel like pretending to be silly or like isolating himself. But every time, he couldn’t help but feel like he was being judged. He doesn’t know if it’s them or him, but either way he hates it.

Hunk is fine to talk to on his own – he listens – but the rest of them, and when they’re together…Lance just can’t do it. But maybe it is just him. Maybe this is all just _him._

Finally, he turns to face her, leaning back against the counter. He picks the most practical of his worries, what he thinks he’s least likely to get pushback for: “I’m really stressed about the rent thing. We have enough for this month, but I have no clue what I’m going to do, especially when finals come. I’m almost failing as it is.”

“Well, have you been looking for a better job?” she asks. “Don’t you hate that one?”

Lance feels himself wince and he tries to hide it. He knows she doesn’t mean to – it’s just her personality. But her tone and the way she chooses her words; it makes Lance not want to continue.

“Yeah. I put up some ads to dog sit,” he says quickly. “It’ll pay more, and I can get homework done while I do it. Seriously, do you want tea? Before it gets cold?”

“Oh, sure,” she gives him a wary look, not ready to drop the conversation just yet. “Do you have chamomile?”

“You are a demon,” Lance says, letting a fake smile play on his face as he turns to get out another tea strainer and scoop the loose leaf into it. Just to keep from making eye contact with her, he takes his time getting out Rachel’s _Dear Evan Hansen_ mug and pouring the water.

“You’re the one who drinks his coffee black,” Pidge says behind him. Maybe she’s really letting him have this one.

“Yeah, but I never drink coffee,” he says. “So, it’s fine.”

“You do whiskey and tequila shots like it’s nothing.”

He spins back around on his socks. “You say that like it’s a bad thing, Miss Shot-Sipper.”

“It’s not exactly a good thing, Mister Does-Ten-Shots-and-Almost-Gets-His-Nipples-Pierced,” Pidge says, crossing her arms.

Lance gapes, his mouth in the shape of an ‘O’ the entire time it takes him to grab the mugs and move them over to the kitchen table. “I told Rachel that in strict confidence.”

“And she told Matt, who told me,” Pidge says, attempting to quietly pull a chair out before plopping down. They’ve most likely woken Hunk up anyway. It’s fine.

Lance runs back to the counter to get his phone – he still has to reply to Shiro – as Pidge takes a sip of _his_ already-steeped tea. She coughs, probably burning her mouth. Lance doesn’t feel bad at all.

“You can’t wait five minutes?” he asks, plopping down beside her. “Actually, it’s more like three by now.”

He blows on the drink before taking a sip of his own. But – he forgot the vanilla almond milk. It’s the only thing that makes the tea palatable. Lance grumbles to himself before getting up again.

“Wait, you’re _still_ talking to Shiro?”

The sound of his name makes his heart rate spike. Pidge has impatiently taken her tea strainer out a minute too early when Lance returns, but more importantly, Lance’s phone is lit up on the table.

 

**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> sorry if that was weird

> im not coming onto you I promise

 

“Yes, and I’m still getting Curious Cat hate even though he hasn’t interacted with me publicly in weeks,” Lance says, pulling his phone off of the table and not bothering to pour the milk yet. “And someone tried to hack into my account last week. I’m lucky I have two-factor authentication.”

“What do you guys even talk about?” Pidge says, ignoring this.

“Just stuff,” Lance says, opening his Twitter to reply.

 

**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> No!! it’s fine! Sorry I woke my friend up on accident and we’ve been talking

> I don’t know, it’s just hard to believe I matter at all sometimes

> It means a lot coming from you though

 

“ _Stuff?_ ” Pidge asks. “Like what?”

“Like, I don’t know,” Lance says as he watches the typing bubble appear. “I mostly complain to him.”

“Oh my god, Lance.”

 

**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**  

> you definitely matter and you mattered before I said anything

> I might go to sleep soon. Are you okay?  
  


**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> yes that’s fine!

> you should sleep, you’re probably exhausted!

> night shiro!!

 

“Why do you guys keep _talking_?” Hunk groans, but he gets up anyway and comes to sit with them. Lance locks his phone, puts it face down, and finally pours the milk in his tea.

“Lance is still talking to Shiro,” Pidge says.

“Oh, he’s started responding to you again?” Hunk asks, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand.

“Uh huh.”

“But he’s just _complaining_ to him.”

“I’m not—” Lance starts before sighing, “he gives me advice and stuff. I guess we’re—we’re kind of friends. I don’t know.” Now that Hunk is awake, it’s a bit easier to talk about this kind of stuff, but he still doesn’t want to jinx it.

Pidge’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wait, are you serious?”

“I don’t know!” Lance says.

He takes a sip of his tea so that he doesn’t have to say anything more, but they both keep looking at him. So, he just decides to take the bait and tell them something that’s been on his mind this whole time. He felt it even before Shiro followed him, when he just had a strange kind of hope that he’d be noticed by him.

“Is it weird that, I don’t know,” Lance trails off for a moment, “So you know how there’s that red thread theory? That soulmates are connected by an invisible red thread no matter how far apart they are to start with?”

The two nod.

“Well, is it weird that I’ve always kind of felt like Shiro and I were connected in some way? Like I’m meant to be more than a fan to him?”

“Like…soulmates?” Pidge asks, only one brow lifted now.

“No, no, not like that,” Lance shakes his head quickly. “Like a different kind of thread. Like a…” his eyes land on his mug. “like a blue thread? I’ve just loved him so much, for so long. I feel like it has to mean something.”

“Well, clearly it does if you guys are _still_ talking,” Pidge says, and Hunk nods, yawning.

“I just mean,” Lance says, taking another sip and shrugging. “Do you think we could _actually_ be friends? Like in real life? He lives in L.A.”

Shiro says he matters, that he likes talking to him. But would that ever extend to a friendship where they talk about the meaning of life over coffee (or tea)? That’s honestly been Lance’s biggest dream for as long as he remembers.

It’s probably not likely, though.

“Oh my god, imagine if Lance was friends with Shiro,” Pidge says, mostly to Hunk, setting the _Dear Evan Hansen_ mug down with a thunk. She’s already finished her tea. “We’d, like, be his friends by default.”

“I think you mean by proxy,” Hunk says, and Pidge shrugs.

“Wait,” Pidge whips her head toward Lance, who’s mind is now reeling with various versions of ‘ _Of course Shiro wouldn’t be your friend, you idiot.’_  “Do you think that Shiro would skype with us while we’re here?”

“Um,” Lance’s voice breaks.

“You should ask him!”

“I don’t know,” Lance says. He’s never asked too much of Shiro, and this kind of feels like it’d be a step too far. A tad too annoying. “Maybe. He went to sleep, so I’ll have to ask him tomorrow.”

“Okay, but don’t forget.”

Lance nods, staring down at his mug. If Shiro wouldn’t be his friend in real life, there’s a big chance that he would say no to skyping. He might even stop talking to Lance entirely if he asks. Or what if he blocks him?

He feels Hunk’s eyes on him – having anxiety himself, he’s the first and only of Lance’s friends to notice when he’s starting to spiral.

“Hey,” Hunk says, and Lance looks up without moving his head. “Do you guys want to rewatch season one?”

Lance pushes a smile onto his face as Pidge, still so excited over Shiro, says “Yes!” Hunk knows, at least. He knows what’s easy for Lance and knows that this conversation has not been.

They all cram onto the couch as Lance pulls up Netflix on his TV. For the rest of the night, the three of them get back into their usual routine of talking about what comes easy to them – _Kerberos_. And once again, as he dozes off beside them, Lance is able to escape.

 

**SATURDAY, MARCH 23**   
  


“Oh, you’re fine,” Coran says in his thick accent as he runs a brush through Keith’s hair. Keith has been groaning any time the brush comes across a tangle.

“I swear I shower and brush my hair,” he defends, shifting in his seat in an attempt not to wince as Coran starts to separate his hair and finds yet another knot. “It just gets unruly sometimes.”

Apparently, Coran got sick of watching Keith’s hair fall in his face every time he tried to draw on set. He was sitting in Shiro’s chair, pushing his bangs out of his eyes and hooking them behind his ear for the twelfth time that hour when Coran came up and demanded he let him braid it.

And here they are.

“I believe you,” Coran laughs. “It’s that two-in-one shampoo and conditioner.”

Keith pouts, his head jerking back slightly as Coran begins to braid. Shiro already bothers him about that. He doesn’t need Coran to scold him too.

“It’s cheap,” Keith mumbles. “And it works.”

“You work for one of the most famous teen heartthrobs in the world,” Coran says. “Separate conditioner is a worthwhile investment! It’s not a diamond encrusted lion figurine.”

Keith just shrugs, watching Coran’s hands work through his hair. He’s apparently doing two French braids; Keith thinks he knows what that looks like, but he can’t be sure.

Either way, his brain has already sparked the idea of taking a selfie to show Lance when Coran is finished, which Keith obviously can’t do. No matter how excited he thinks Lance would be about it.

Because obviously, he wouldn’t actually be excited. The braids aren’t on Shiro’s head.

In all honesty, Keith has been thinking a lot about Lance since he saw him in person on Tuesday. Way more than he used to, which he didn’t think was possible.

Lance is all he’s been able to draw, and this isn’t the first time in the past few days that he’s thought about telling Lance something Keith-specific.

He’s wanted to show him a photo of Kosmo lying on his back and looking like a dumbass, to tell him about how he spent several free hours working on his motorcycle. He wants to tell him about his and Shiro’s weird new challenge to see who can wake up before the other. It’s always Keith, and he’s weirdly proud of it. He just wants to tell him _everything_ , which has never happened before. With anyone.

Coran’s grip on Keith’s hair loosens as he reaches the end of one braid, his hands brushing against Keith’s neck as he skillfully weaves the rest together. Keith runs through his options for the thousandth time as Coran ties the braid with a thin rubber band.

He’s considered going back to the bar, becoming a regular patron, and getting closer to Lance that way. He could also follow Lance on his own account and DM him like he initially should have. But both of those options could lead to Lance knowing him in real life, and thus knowing Shiro. Cue truth being revealed.

But would that turn out so bad? He’s convinced himself that maybe, just maybe, Lance and Shiro would understand. And everything could be the way it’s supposed to be.

“So, I heard you went on a date this week,” Coran says, sort of reading Keith’s mind. Keith visibly grimaces.

“Yeah,” he says. “Did Shiro enlist you to get the information out of me?”

Telling Shiro the truth and getting his advice is another option. He always knows what to do, no matter how much trouble Keith gets himself in, and Keith is having a harder and harder time keeping this from him to begin with.

He’s resorted to not telling him a single thing about the date – not even about James trying to hook up with him. It’s the only way to ensure that he won’t completely spill everything.

“He did,” Coran says, running a brush through the other half of Keith’s hair. It’s not so bad this time, at least. “You know he just wants you to be happy. We all do!”

“Yeah,” Keith squirms, frowning. That’s why keeping a huge secret from him like this is the worst. “I know.”

“He seems to think it went well and that you fear you’ll jinx it,” Coran says. He’s braiding faster now, in the zone but still able to carry this conversation somehow.

Keith can’t help but laugh. “Not even close.”

“So, then what’s the dilemma of telling Shiro?”

Before Keith can even open his mouth to make something up, the door to the hair and makeup trailer swings open. It’s Addison, the first assistant director. This may be the first time Keith has been grateful to see her and her clipboard.

“Keith,” she says, clearly not as grateful to see him. “Shiro should have been here five minutes ago for a touch-up. What are you doing?”

He forgot, of course. He seems to be forgetting everything but Lance now.

“Sorry, Coran was just—”

“There,” Coran says, snapping another rubber band around the second braid. He nudges Keith’s shoulder, “Go on and find him.”

Keith jumps up and books it out the door, if only to escape Addison’s glare. Running through set is a lot different without his hair whipping into his face.

Could he tell Shiro the truth? Maybe, but he could react horribly, and then Keith would be _completely_ alone.

Sometimes it seems the only valid option is to tell Lance, to try to convince him not to post about it or tell anyone. He could explain, and maybe even bribe him with the chance to meet Shiro so long as he pretends it never happened.

They could start over, and it could go the way it should have. Keith could let him in, the way Lance has unknowingly let him in, like he so desperately wants to.

He opens Shiro’s trailer door, too in his head to remember to knock. Luckily, Shiro’s just sitting on his couch and studying his script with his bottom lip between his teeth. The only thing out of place about this scene, for Keith, is Adam, who is curled up asleep beside Shiro, with his head on Shiro’s shoulder.

Shiro glances up and does a double take. “Nice hair.”

“Oh,” Keith says, tugging on one of the short braids. “Coran did it.”

He nods, his face breaking out into a smile. “He mentioned he wanted to do that.”

“What’s up with him?” Keith gestures with his chin toward Adam, who may or may not be snoring now.

In all of the time he’s known him, Keith has never seen Adam take a nap. Or even be tired, come to think of it. Shiro may be great at giving advice, but between him and Adam, Adam’s the responsible one. He goes to sleep at like 8 p.m., especially on nights before early call times.

“We stayed up on the phone last night,” Shiro flushes, talking quickly. “We were running through our lines and he just _did_ this and fell asleep. I don’t think I’ve breathed for the last hour.”

Keith raises his eyebrows. “And you still don’t know if he likes you?”

“Yes,” Shiro points at Keith as he talks. “Because he does stuff like this, but then sometimes he doesn’t text me back.”

“You guys are ridiculous,” Keith laughs, shaking his head as if he hasn’t been catfishing a guy just because he thinks he’s cute.

Shiro shrugs, but quickly cringes as Adam stirs beside him. He lifts his head, eliciting a sigh from Shiro, and blinks his tired eyes toward Keith.

“Oh hey,” Adam says, yawning. “Nice hair.”

“Thanks,” Keith says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and looking back toward Shiro. “Um, anyway, you need to be in hair and makeup. First AD wanted to murder me.”

“Shit,” Shiro checks his watch, dropping his script on the table beside the couch. Adam is still trying to wake up as Shiro stands, pulling him up with him. He stumbles and falls against Shiro, who giggles. “We’re a disaster.”

“I’m not sure if they need Adam too,” Keith tells them. “You might be able to nap more in your trailer.”

“Oh, they do,” Adam yawns again. “We’re a package deal.”

Shiro very obviously blushes at this, ducking his head. He looks up only to nod at Keith as the two step around him. “Thanks. I’ll text you if I need you.”

Keith falls onto the couch and opens the camera on his phone as soon as he’s alone. He’s never really taken a selfie before, but maybe if he takes a good one, it’ll convince him to send it to Lance.

He could say something like, “Look what my stylist did to my assistant’s hair.” Or maybe make something up, like Shiro braided it himself. Or he could tell the truth.

He smiles an awkward smile at the camera and snaps a few photos from different angles, but that just looks weird. He tilts his head, moves the phone around, but nothing. He tries not to force anything, settling for his resting pouty face. There must be a hundred different pictures in his folder before he finally takes a good one.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he pulls open Twitter and goes to his conversation with Lance. Attaching the photo to the message is the easy part, but coming up with the actual message is much harder.

He bites on his thumbnail, typing a few different options – one confession and about seven messages told from Shiro’s point of view. He gives up only once he sees the typing bubble pop up on Lance’s side.

 

**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> hey so feel free to say no I don’t want to annoy you but

> my friends are in town and they want to know if you’d skype with us? just for a few minutes even.

> you don’t have to though

 

Keith blinks, rereading the messages, and his stomach drops. If this were a movie, light would shine around his phone and dramatic music would play.

His first instinct is to say no. But at the same time, it sort of feels like a message from the universe instead of Lance. _Tell the truth. Confess to him now before it becomes impossible._

It’s sort of perfect. Well, at least because, if he skypes him, he doesn’t have to bring it up or spend hours typing an explanation. The truth will just be there, right on Lance’s computer screen.

Before he can think anymore, Keith fumbles with his phone and types, “Sure.”

        

**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> wait really?  
 

**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> yeah

> like right now?  
  


**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> if you can

> I have to go to work soon  
 

**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> I just need a minute to make a skype

> what’s your username  
  


**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**  

> Thanks Shiro!!! My friends are so happy

> its just lancemcclain :)

 

Fuck. His friends are going to be there. Keith missed that part of the message the first time around, but it’s too late now. He holds his breath and gets up to grab Shiro’s laptop.

Okay, so this could be fine. He can just pretend they’re not there and explain himself to Lance like he planned. It’s not like he hasn’t been tweaking the explanation in his head all week.

Or if he chickens out, he can always jump away from the screen at the last minute and pretend Shiro had to run onto set. That’s probably what’s going to happen.

He holds his breath the entire time he downloads Skype and sets up the account under Shiro’s name. He clicks around and types quickly without giving his brain much time to second-guess.

Before he knows it, the call is going through and it’s ringing and he’s nearly panicking. It must take less than a minute, but it feels like it rings for an eternity.

Then it connects, and Keith only lets out a breath once Lance’s pixelated face shows up on the screen. He’s flanked on either side by his friends, a dark-skinned guy and a smaller, pale girl with glasses. They’re all smiling excitedly, and now Keith thinks he might throw up.

“Wait, I can’t see you,” Lance says, and Keith’s stomach does somersaults. God, he’s so cute. “You have to turn your camera on.”

 Just then, the door to the trailer swings open, and Keith snaps the laptop shut and throws it to the other side of the couch like it’s infected. He sits on his hands and looks up at Shiro with wide eyes.

What the fuck was he thinking? He can’t guarantee Lance would keep his mouth shut if he told him the truth, and that could _ruin Shiro’s career._ Holy shit.

“Shiro!” He says, his voice breaking as he jumps up from the couch. “You really need to be in hair and makeup. You’re so late.”

“I already went,” Shiro eyes him strangely. “It didn’t take long. I’m going to set in a second, I just had something to ask you before I forget.”

“O-okay.”

“Allura mentioned something about DMs on Twitter,” he says. Keith swallows the lump forming in his throat, and his hands start to shake. “Have you been DMing fans?”

Now’s his chance. _Just tell him,_ Keith tells himself. His reaction can’t possibly be worse than Lance’s would have been. He knows he’s the closest thing to family Keith has. He wouldn’t possibly abandon him.

But what if he does?

Instead of the truth, the excuse he prepared rolls off his tongue. “Yeah, just answering a few a day. I thought it’d make you seem more personable, or whatever.”

“Okay,” Shiro visibly relaxes. “I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t hacked or anything. Allura said _Buzzfeed_ posted about it because fans have been tweeting screenshots.”

“Oh yeah,” Keith forces out a laugh. He tries to run his hand through his hair before he realizes he still has those stupid braids in. “Just me.”

“Just let me know when you decide to do stuff like that.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Shiro nods before eyeing him again. “You know you’re allowed to use my laptop, right? You look like you’re about to shit yourself.”

“Yeah,” Keith rubs his forehead and stares down at his feet, letting out another strangled laugh. “I wasn’t sure.”

Shiro claps a hand on his shoulder with a much more genuine chuckle. “It’s okay, man.”

Then he turns to leave, and Keith breathes out. Before he can be too relieved, though, Shiro faces him again.

“You’re still going out with us tonight, right?”

Keith’s eyes flutter closed, and his hand finds his forehead again. Yet another thing he forgot about, but the least he can do for Shiro is be his third wheel. Allura was probably pissed about the DMs happening without anyone telling her, so he doesn’t need her mad about Adam too.

“I forgot,” he admits. “But yeah, of course, Shiro.”

Shiro grins. “Cool.”

Then, he really leaves, and Keith is left to collapse back onto the couch again. He might actually throw up.

 

-  
  


“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Pidge says as soon as Lance’s skype begins to ring. The username shirotakashi just added him and is now calling him.

Lance has his computer propped open on the kitchen table, and the three of them are huddled together in front of it. They’re as close as the kitchen chairs will allow.

He’s jittery all over, but he refuses to let it show. He has to be cool about this. “Guys, calm down, okay?” he says, even though Hunk has been pretty calm compared to Pidge, just smiling in awe. Matt passed up the opportunity to Skype Shiro so he could go to lunch with Rachel, so it’s just the three of them.

“You expect me to be calm when we’re about to talk to Taka—”

“He’s just a normal guy.”

“You’re not excited _at all?”_ Hunk asks, more confused than anything, a smile still taking over most of his face.

“I should probably pick up,” Lance says, and he does.

The screen is black, aside from their own faces in the bottom right corner. Lance’s heart races as the sound of rustling and Shiro breathing out comes through.

He waits a second, leaning forward in his chair before saying, “Wait, I can’t see you. You have to turn your camera on.”

As soon as he finishes saying this, there’s the sound of a door opening and something – Shiro’s computer? – slamming shut. He and Hunk exchange looks before returning their gazes to the screen.

“Shiro!” Someone says. The voice is vaguely familiar, but Lance can’t pinpoint exactly who it is. Maybe a lesser-known cast member of the show or something. “You really need to be in hair and makeup. You’re so late.”

“I already went.” Lance’s heart leaps – that’s a voice that he knows well. Shiro. He finds himself even more excited than before. Subconsciously, he may have thought he was being pranked or something, somehow. But it really is Shiro he’s been talking to. “It didn’t take long. I’m going to set in a second. I just had—”

His voice cuts off and the call ends. They all look at each other, not really sure what’s going on. Lance, at the very least, is amazed regardless. He’s feeling every bit of exhilaration he should have felt these past few weeks of DMing Shiro.

It’s really hitting him now. It’s _Shiro._ Holy fuck.

“Do you…” Hunk hesitates, “…do you think he’ll call back?”

“Maybe,” Lance says, smiling at his now-inactive Skype dashboard.

“Oh my god,” Pidge says again. “That was Takashi Shirogane.”

Like Lance, she seems to be satisfied with the tiny sound bite they got. Now that Shiro isn’t imminently on the other end of a call, Lance lets himself be a fan again.

“I know,” he whispers. “Holy shit.”

Pidge takes his shoulder and shakes him, but he keeps his eyes on the computer screen just in case. “You’ve been talking to _Shiro!”_

“It honestly just hit me now.”

Who cares if his best friend and sister will probably end up dating? _Who cares_ if he’s not doing perfectly in all of his classes anymore? His literal _Hero_ with a capital ‘H’ is friends with him.

He didn’t even hesitate before agreeing to skype with them, which almost proves Lance wrong. It is possible that he and Shiro could be friends in real life someday. Nothing else matters.

At least not today. Today he’s on cloud nine.

They wait with Skype open for twenty minutes before Lance, still in a daze, notices the time. It’s nearly 2, and he has to be at work at 3.

Yesterday, he hated the fact that he had to work while his friends were here. But now, his brain actually leans toward positive thinking. At least it’s just a day shift, so there won’t be too much of a rush, and he can still hang out with them when he gets off at 9. In the meantime, they’re not exactly sad to be tourists for a few hours.

He pushes his chair out, shutting his laptop as he stands. Shiro’s Skype went offline ten minutes ago, anyway. “I have to shower,” he says.

“Wait,” Pidge sputters. “Shouldn’t you text Shiro? Maybe we can try again when you get off work.”

“We probably shouldn’t bother him,” Hunk says exactly what Lance is thinking.

“I’ll ask him what happened and see what he says,” Lance says. He may be exhilarated, but he still doesn’t want to annoy Shiro. That would put him at risk of losing the one thing making him happy right now.

Before he gets in the shower, he sends a DM to Shiro like promised.

 

**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> Everything okay?

> Sorry about that, I know you’re busy

 

Shiro doesn’t reply until Lance is dressed in his black Altea Bar & Grille t-shirt and jeans, apron in hand, and about to head out the door.

“Shiro said he’s sorry he had to run to set, and that he’s not sure if he’ll have time to try again any time soon,” he reads from his phone as he pulls his keys off of the hook and pockets them.

Hunk frowns. “Dang it.”

“Maybe this summer?” Pidge asks.

“Maybe,” Lance says. He doesn’t want to push it, so he’ll leave that question for Shiro for when the time comes.

 

**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**  

> No problem!!

> Thanks for even agreeing to try!

 

“Alright,” he says, pocketing his phone too. “I’ll see you guys later. Enjoy the Walk of Fame. Make sure Matt doesn’t do anything to get him arrested.”

They wave goodbye, and he’s out the door, still feeling lighter than he has in weeks.

His shift passes by quickly despite there being only a dozen or so customers before the nighttime rush at 8. He’s walking around as if he’s in a dream, smiling at customers easily, even when he makes mistakes. Because _Shiro._

Even if Shiro has been DMing fans recently, how many of them have his Skype? None, because he _made_ a Skype specifically to Skype with _Lance._ Un-freaking-believable. Just unbelievable.

He’s consistently in his head, and he doesn’t even notice when the end of his shift arrives. Acxa throws her towel at his head when she gets there, snapping him out of it.

“You were off five minutes ago,” she says, and he just smiles.

“Right.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “You good?”

“Perfect,” Lance grins, and he unties his apron and leaves the bar area without another word.

As he clocks out, he has an amazing thought. What if Shiro and him actually become friends, and Shiro introduces him to someone. Shiro _has_ to know people who don’t just want to sleep around and who could appreciate the love Lance has to offer.

Wow. That would just be—

“Lance, wait,” Acxa calls after him as he walks past the bar toward the exit. When he turns around, he locks eyes with Adam Wright. Like, _Kerberos_ Adam. The Adam he ships with Shiro and who is often seen kissing Shiro on screen.

Right there, looking back at him while he sits in front of Acxa at the bar. Lance squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. Now he really might be dreaming.

But he’s not. No matter how much Lance tries to snap out of it, Adam stays in his field of vision. Then he realizes he’s been staring for a solid minute.

“Um,” Acxa laughs. “Isn’t this the guy from your show?”

He knew going on long rants about the show to Acxa and showing her pictures of everyone would come in handy one day.

“ _Kerberos,”_ Adam says, just loud enough for him to hear. Lance glances around, but no one else seems to notice yet. He takes two steps at a time over to them.

“Hi,” Lance says. His face is heating up, and he has no clue what to say.

“This is Lance,” Acxa says for him, and Lance nervously slips his hands in his pockets. “He tells me about…what was it, _Kerberos_? Like every day.”

“I love your character,” Lance blurts out as Adam extends a hand to him, and he shakes it. “I mean, I love you as an actor, too. But—you know what I mean.”

Adam laughs, nodding. “It’s nice to meet you!”

“Oh my god, you too,” Lance says, blinking quickly. “I mean, sorry. This is the first time anyone famous that I actually care about has come into my place of work.”

Place of work? What is he saying? And this is just Adam – he can only hope he’d be more chill if he were to ever meet—

“Shiro is—” Adam finishes the thought for him, glancing around behind Lance. Lance feels his eyes widen. “Actually, I’m not sure where Shiro is. His assistant wasn’t feeling well, so they might have left.”

That’s so like Shiro, to take care of his assistant just as much as his assistant takes care of him. What a guy, honestly.

“Shiro’s Lance’s favorite,” Acxa says gleefully, and Lance shoots daggers in her direction with his eyes. Adam doesn’t need to know that _he’s_ not Lance’s favorite. “Also, sorry, what can I get you?”

“Whatever beer you have on tap is fine,” Adam says. Yes! Lance knew Adam would be a beer drinker. He just had a feeling. Adam adjusts his glasses and checks his phone before looking back at Lance. “If you want, you should wait here for him. I’m sure he’d love to meet you too.”

Lance’s stomach is going crazy as he slides into the seat beside Adam. He just skyped Shiro and now he might actually _meet_ him.

“Hey, do you—” Lance pulls his phone out and shakes it a little in the air. “Do you mind if we take a selfie?”

“This lighting is terrible,” Adam says, “But sure. Just don’t post it anywhere until tomorrow.”

Lance opens his camera and tries to steady his hand as he takes the picture, but it’s hard not to shake when Adam puts his hand on Lance’s shoulder and leans in toward the camera with a smile.

The lighting _is_ awful, since they’re in a literal bar. But it’s real. That’s what matters.  
  
And it’s still a good selfie – nothing a filter can’t fix. It’s not like Lance hasn’t spent hours practicing how he’d hold the phone if he ever got to take a selfie with someone from _Kerberos_.  
  
“So Shiro’s your favorite, huh?” Adam asks, taking a sip of the beer Acxa brought him. Acxa has moved on to serve other customers on the other side of the bar, and it’s just Lance and Adam now. Just two buds sitting at a bar. Oh my god.  
  
“Yes,” Lance nods. “But you’re awesome too. You guys are great together. In the show, I mean. Obviously.”  
  
They must know people ship them in real life, but he’s never known exactly how they feel about it. It’s best not to make himself look like one of the crazy fans that makes theory videos about how they’re probably secretly dating.  
  
Adam laughs. “Yeah, Takashi is…well I understand how he’s most people’s favorite.”  
 __  
Takashi. They have to be dating.  
  
Lance nods, quickly, again. “He’s actually been DMing me. He’s so nice.”  
  
Adam looks at him, then, and Lance can see him thinking. Maybe Shiro has told him about him, and he’s remembering the name Lance. That would be…wow.  
  
“Oh, yeah,” Adam says eventually, drawing the words out. “He mentioned he was doing that. He loves keeping up with the fans.”

Right. Well, that’s fine. Lance knew Shiro has been DMing other people too. He’s probably been giving advice to all sorts of fans.

Adam takes another sip of his beer and checks his phone again. “Sorry. I’m not sure where he went.”

Before Lance can respond, his phone buzzes. It’s already almost 9:30.

 

**Less attractive twin:**

> where are youuuu

> we want to play uno

 

**Lance:**

> be home soon

> [photo attachment] I MET ADAM WRIGHT

 

“I should actually probably be going soon,” Lance says, slipping out of the seat. He doesn’t want to take up too much of Adam’s time, even if he could be meeting Shiro at the end of it. He doesn’t want to annoy _him_ either. “My friends are in town and they’re leaving tomorrow.”

“Sorry again. We’ll come back, I’m sure,” Adam says sheepishly. “I’ll let Shiro know you said hi.”

“Thanks Adam,” Lance says, waving as he walks backward toward the door. _Adam, oh my god._ “It was nice to meet you! Thanks for the selfie!”

“Sure,” Adam laughs.

 

**Less attractive twin:**

> I can barely see anything in that photo

> is he at the bar?

> should I tell hunk and pidge

 

Lance doesn’t know why, but he just wants to keep this experience to himself. He’ll have more opportunities to get Hunk and Pidge to meet the cast, he’s sure.

That’s why he’s not super sad about not meeting Shiro. He talks to him almost daily – he’s going to meet him eventually. Today’s just not the day it’s meant to happen.

 

**Lance:**

> no he left :( it was during my shift

> omw home now!!

 

He’s still smiling from ear to ear as he gets into his car and puts the key into the ignition. This is quite possibly the best day of his life.

 

-

 

This is quite possibly the worst day of Keith’s life.

First there was the whole Skype thing, and then when he stopped home with Shiro and Adam to take Kosmo out, the dog had already pooped and peed on the kitchen floor. Keith, he soon realized, had forgotten to run back to the apartment in the middle of the day.

Now, as he cleans up the floor, Adam and Shiro are talking about going to Altea Bar and Grille – also known as the place Lance works. And Keith has no reason to say they can’t do that.

He can only hope Lance isn’t working tonight, but with the way things are going, he probably is.

“It’s close,” Shiro says to Adam, unhooking Kosmo’s leash. At the very least, he’d offered to take Kosmo out while Keith cleaned up. “So, there’s less of a chance you’ll throw up in the Uber.”

“If I’m gonna throw up in the Uber, I’m gonna throw up in the Uber.”

“Yeah, but there’s less time for you to do that if we go to Altea,” Shiro says.

Adam just shrugs. “I guess you could be right.”

“You know,” Shiro puts on his flirty, playful voice, and Keith can’t help but roll his eyes as he throws a dirty paper towel away, “you wouldn’t throw up at all if you didn’t drink liquor after beer.”

“Takashi,” Adam says, just as flirty. “You know that rhyme’s a myth, right?”

“I’m just saying,” Shiro says. “It doesn’t seem like a myth when it comes to you.”

“Okay,” Keith says quickly, before they can continue. When he looks at them, they’re standing at a reasonable distance apart, still bashful despite their obvious chemistry. “Ready to go?”

Keith’s heartrate is already at an all-time high as he sits in the back of an Uber with the two of them. He rests his head against the window and tries to get himself to calm down by counting the palm trees as they pass them. Yet, despite all of this anxiety, he’s kept his braids in his hair – just so Lance can see it, in case he _is_ working.

But reality hits and that tiny bit of hopefulness goes down the drain as soon as they get to the bar. The moment Keith steps into the building, he sees Lance and his dimples behind the counter and absolutely loses it.

All at once, he knows exactly what’s going to happen. Shiro will meet Lance, and Lance will bring up how he’s been DMing him _every single day._ Shiro won’t know anything about that, of course, and he’ll blow Keith’s cover. Then, they’ll both look over at Keith for an explanation and probably murder him if he doesn’t die from suffocation first.

Shiro and Adam step forward in what seems like slow motion as Lance’s coworker throws a towel at his head, but Keith’s feet are stuck in place. He grabs ahold of Shiro’s arm before he can get too far away.

His breaths are already coming in sharp when Shiro turns to him, and Shiro knows exactly what’s happening. He says something to Adam, which Keith can’t quite make out over the ringing in his ears and the general sounds of the bar, before pulling Keith off into a short hallway leading to the bathrooms.

Keith collapses onto the men’s bathroom floor as soon as they get inside. Shiro kneels down in front of him, watching him with wide eyes.

“Hey, hey,” Shiro says quietly, taking Keith’s face in his hands as Keith continues to suck in short, ragged breaths. “What’s going on?”

He hasn’t had a panic attack in months, maybe years. But what was Keith expecting? There’s no way that this could have ended well, especially when Lance lives so close to them. If Shiro doesn’t meet him now, he’s still going to meet him sometime. And then it’ll all come crashing down.

That only serves to make it harder for Keith to breathe. Now, tears have begun falling down his face and onto Shiro’s hands.

“Keith,” Shiro says, sterner now, turning Keith’s face toward him. “Look at me.”

Keith looks in his kind, concerned eyes, and Shiro drops his hands. God, he’s completely ruined everything. Even if Shiro doesn’t hate him when he finds out, he’s going to get Shiro in trouble, and Keith will hate himself enough for the both of them.

“Can you try to breathe? Let’s breathe, okay?” Shiro says, holding a hand up before moving it to plug one of his nostrils. Keith mimics him, but still takes in several quick breaths.

They go on, switching nostrils in tandem, and Keith’s breathing takes forever to slow. Eventually, though, it goes back to normal. He squeezes his eyes shut and opens his mouth to finally explain and tell the truth. Just so Shiro can hear it from him.

But of course, he’s cut off by someone coming into the bathroom. Right – because they’re in a public place, where anyone could hear him tell Shiro this information.

“Hey, you’re that guy,” the college kid says when Shiro looks up to see who’s come in. “My girlfriend’s obsessed with you.”

“Hi, nice to meet you,” Shiro recites without standing, and Keith can hear the smile that’s plastered on his face. “Uh, now’s not really the best time, but if she wants to come up later, I’d be happy to meet her.”

“Cool,” the guy says, his own smile fading as he glances at Keith. He must still look like he’s on the verge of death. “I’ll let her know.”

Then he goes into one of the stalls, giving them the tad bit of privacy available to them while he goes to the bathroom. Keith tries to keep his breathing even as he hears the guy start to pee.

Shiro ignores it entirely, turning back to Keith. “Are you okay?”

Keith shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut again. “This is where I…where I went on my date. On Tuesday,” he whispers. He can’t exactly tell the truth, what with the guy whose girlfriend is in love with Shiro on the other side of the stall. “It was awful. I thought I’d be fine, but…I don’t know.”

“Keith,” Shiro frowns. “We can go somewhere else.”

“I mean,” Keith hiccups. “You guys wanted to go here. I don’t know.”

“What happened?”

“I really don’t want to talk about it,” he stands when he hears the toilet flush, and Shiro follows his lead. Shiro’s always helped him through things, but now Keith can barely handle the look on Shiro’s face. He wouldn’t be so worried if he knew the half of it. “I might just leave, if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah,” Shiro says automatically, his eyes still wide with concern. “That’s fine. I can call you an Uber.”

Shiro gives the college kid a nod when he comes out of the stall, and he and Keith step back out into the hallway. As soon as they do, though, Keith has to catch his breath all over again.

He can leave, so at least he doesn’t have to be there when Lance and Shiro find out what he’s done, but it’s still going to happen.

“You good?”

“I just need a minute,” Keith says, leaning down with his hands on his thighs. He takes a long, deep breath, wishing his body would just chill out. What happens is going to happen whether he breathes or not.

“Hey,” Shiro says, hand on Keith’s shoulder. “It’s alright. And that guy, whoever he is, he isn’t your only hope. I’m not the only one capable of caring about you, Keith.”

“Yeah,” Keith says with a breath in, doing his best to nod. The college kid doesn’t make eye contact with them when he comes out of the bathroom, and Keith waves Shiro off. “You can…you can go on. I’ll be out in a minute.”

Shiro hesitates, his eyebrows laced together as he gives Keith a once-over. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” he asks. “You’re essentially my brother. I won’t judge you.”

“I know,” Keith says. “Really, I’m okay.”

Shiro nods, turning to leave, and Keith stands up straight. He turns to the bulletin board hung along the hallway wall to distract himself, to try to get his brain to focus on anything else. The mixture of everyone at the bar’s loud conversations is doing nothing to help him.

There’s mostly college things, some casting calls for student productions and advertisements for events different campus groups are putting on. There’s someone looking for a roommate. Nothing really applies to Keith, but he’s happy to read every line of every flyer.

Then he sees it, like a light among the day’s darkness. “DOG SITTER AVAILABLE.” With everything going to shambles, this is the least he can do for himself. He couldn’t possibly get rid of Kosmo on top of everything else, but with the way he’s been taking care of him, he was thinking he might have to.

He pulls the number off of the bottom of the flyer and slips it into his wallet. Something about the quick, near impulsive movement convinces him to suck it up and go say goodbye to Shiro and Adam, even if it means most likely interrupting their conversation with Lance.

Keith reenters the main dining area in quick strides, and Shiro is only just then sliding into a seat beside Adam at the bar. It felt like Keith was looking at the bulletin board for twenty minutes, but it must not have even been one.

To his surprise, Lance is no longer behind the bar. Lance’s purple-haired coworker is joined only by another girl Keith doesn’t recognize. This helps with his breathing issue, just a little.

That is, until he gets to Adam and Shiro, and he catches the middle of their conversation.

“—was Lance,” Adam says. “He said you were his favorite.”

Shiro wiggles his eyebrows, leaning his elbow on the bar and resting his cheek in his palm. “Well, can you blame him?”

“Lance?” Keith says without thinking, and Adam jumps to look back at him.

“Yeah, Shiro just missed a fan. He said Shiro DM’d him, which I assumed was your doing.”

“Oh,” Keith makes a show of shrugging, his shoulders practically lifting up to his ears. He tries to make his face look as guiltless as possible, but he can feel his cheeks getting hot. “I don’t know. I’ve DM’d a lot of people back.”

His heart is racing – it barely got a break.

“Don’t worry,” Adam laughs. “I didn’t give you away or anything.”

“Heh, thanks.”

“I called your Uber, by the way,” Shiro says. “Should be here in ten.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna,” Keith swallows, jutting his thumb back toward the door. “I’m gonna go wait for it outside. Need some fresh air.”

He doesn’t wait for them to respond before he books it out of the bar. He takes in the outside air with his mouth wide open, as if it’s his first time breathing in real oxygen.

Tomorrow – he’ll tell Shiro everything tomorrow.

A car’s engine growls to life nearby before someone drives past him, and Keith looks up in time to see that it’s Lance. He softens as he recognizes him, Lance drumming his hands on the steering wheel with a smile on his face. He’s singing along to whatever song is playing on his stereo, and Keith wishes he could get more than a glimpse before Lance passes and leaves the lot.

_Well_ , he thinks to himself. _Today might suck, but at least Lance is happy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Updates for this will be every other Friday. 
> 
> I'm currently working on this in addition to an original manuscript that I hope to get published! If you'd like to see when I update this/post on here and support me in that endeavor, you can follow me on twitter: [@stephclaires](http://www.twitter.com/stephclaires)  
> 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Keith tries to get his life together and Lance — wait it's Lance?! — helps him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THEY MEET AT LAST! I'm so excited now. Though I will say in advance that I'm stopping my antidepressants and it might make me sick. I'm hoping I'll be able to keep up with it still but uhhh if I have to take a week off or something I will post it on my twitter (link will be at the end!)

**SUNDAY, MARCH 24**

 

“Shiro, I have to tell you something,” Keith says, and Kosmo lifts his eyes to meet Keith’s in the dim light of his bedside lamp. It’s 4 a.m., and there are two reasons why Keith is awake right now: he just woke up after going to bed immediately when he got home around 9:45 and he’s far too anxious about telling Shiro the truth to go back to bed. “No, you’re right. I should just say it.”

This is yet another reason it’d be great to have a friend that’s not a dog. The only two _people_ Keith even likes talking to are the ones involved in this whole thing.

“So, you know how I’ve been DMing fans on your account?” Keith stammers, then shakes his head. “No. Uh, one of the—Shiro, I have been talking to a fan as you for about a month now, and I think I may be in love with him.”

Kosmo whines, rolling over onto his side and closing his eyes. Keith rubs the dog’s belly as he thinks.

“That’s too intense, huh? I can’t be in love already, anyway,” he says. “Maybe I should just start at the beginning?”

He lies back down beside Kosmo, who sighs in what Keith can only interpret as relief. But he continues muttering to himself, only slightly more tired.

“Shiro,” he yawns. “On your birthday, I drunkenly liked a fan’s selfie on your account and he was so cute that I couldn’t muster up the self-control to stop talking to him and now it’s been a month and I found out he lives in L.A. and works at that bar we went to last night.”

Keith flinches at just the thought of Shiro’s reaction. God, even if he doesn’t disown Keith, he’s going to be furious. He’ll fire him before Allura even gets the chance, and then Keith will be shit out of luck.

Maybe if he’s lucky, Shiro won’t tell anyone, and Keith can be someone else’s assistant. Maybe Steven Yeun needs someone…

“Oh yeah, his name is Lance,” he says, closing his eyes. “Yes, the Lance that met Adam. You might run into him, and he’ll probably bring up something about how you’ve never seen _Jaws_. Have you seen  _Jaws_?”

Somewhere in the midst of his imaginary conversation, Keith drifts back into sleep. It’s not much better there – Keith dreams of Shiro yelling at him and throwing things.

He awakes with a start to Kosmo curled up at his feet and the sun shining through the blinds. He has to get this off of his chest.

 Kosmo follows him out into the kitchen, where the clock on the microwave reads 10:22 a.m. He doesn’t change out of his sweatpants and old One Direction t-shirt before grabbing his keys and leaving the apartment. He doesn’t even put shoes on.

“I just have to do this,” he mutters to himself, keeping his hands busy by jingling the keys, “before I talk myself out of it again.”

But the walk two doors down to Shiro’s apartment is not long enough to gather himself. He still hesitates before reaching for the handle and letting himself in.

This couldn’t possibly turn out as bad as it would if Shiro met Lance without a clue of what Keith had done. If Shiro let it slip that he wasn’t the one Lance had been talking to – which is 100% what would happen – the fandom would go crazy. Allura would go crazy. Everyone would go crazy.

Keith takes a breath in, and when he breathes out, he opens the door. Instead of still being in bed or studying his email like expected, Shiro is pacing around the living room, barking into his phone.

“I _know_ that ‘llura,” he says, groaning. “We were just out to get drinks, as friends.”

Adam was supposed to stay over on Shiro’s couch last night, but he’s nowhere to be found, which Keith is grateful for. At least he won’t have an audience. What Keith isn’t grateful for is how stressed Shiro already looks.

“Okay, but I was drunk. I would’ve said that about anyone,” Shiro plops down on the couch and gives a half-nod at Keith, who is still standing in the doorway. “And would it really be so bad if— _Don’t_ bring Keith into this!”

Keith’s eyes widen, and he drops his keys onto the counter before joining Shiro on the couch. Shiro takes a pillow in his lap and squeezes, his mouth in a tight line.

“Who am I supposed to date then?” he asks, incredulous, then listens before rolling his eyes. “I don’t like the rest of Hollywood. I like Adam. … I don’t know why you’re so pissed. We aren’t dating!”

Keith looks out the window and watches as a girl – he’s always thought she was a YouTuber, just based on the vibes she gives off – gets out of her car and puts her sunglasses on top of her head. But it’s the only available distraction he has, and as soon as she disappears into her apartment, he’s left with nothing. He has a strange feeling – no, more like he _knows_ – the origin of this argument between Allura and Shiro is his fault.

“Yes, I know what you’re saying. But don’t be surprised if I don’t listen,” Shiro sighs. “We’re both professional. If anything happens, we’re not going to—Ugh. Yeah, I’ll tell him. Bye.”

Shiro hangs up and tosses his phone onto the table in front of them. He groans, running his hands through his hair.

“Everything okay?” Keith asks. The words almost hurt to say. He’s not sure he wants to know.

“Where do I start?” Shiro says, rubbing his face. He looks up. “Um, before I forget, Allura said you were supposed to post the ASPCA thing yesterday.”

Keith’s shoulders drop, his eyes fluttering closed as he sighs. “Shit,” he mumbles. Is there anything he _didn’t_ forget yesterday? He reaches around him for his phone, so he can post it before he forgets again, but he didn’t grab it before he left.

He put it at the bottom of his underwear drawer last night, underneath all of his socks. It was the only thing he could think to do to keep himself from talking to Lance.

“It’s fine,” Shiro says, “The event isn’t for another few weeks. She said to post it today at the time you were supposed to yesterday.”

“Two o’clock,” Keith says. Right around when he made the very smart, very reasonable decision to agree to Skype Lance.

Keith opens his eyes to see Shiro with a concerned look on his face, but it’s not directed at him. He’s staring ahead, biting his nails.

“What, um,” Keith swallows, “what else is going on?”

Shiro glances at him, his thumbnail still between his teeth. He sits up straight then, running his hands over his jeans. “You haven’t checked Twitter yet?”

Keith shakes his head, and a million ways Shiro and Adam could’ve gotten in trouble run through his mind. All of them would be his fault, considering he was supposed to stay with them last night.

“Well, we drank too much, and after meeting fans all night with no problems, we thought it was a fabulous idea to walk to In ‘n’ Out.”

Keith raises an eyebrow, “Is there even an In ‘n’ Out near there?”

“Uh,” Shiro clears his throat and lowers his voice as he scratches the back of his neck, “like an hour-long walk.”

“You should’ve called me.”

“I did!” Shiro says, a bit louder now, before he sinks back down. “Once. I didn’t want to bother you. You were having a rough night.”

“What about an Ub—”

“We wanted the fresh air. Adam felt like he was going to throw up, like usual,” Shiro says, rolling his eyes with a laugh. His face quickly falls, though. “Anyway…”

He grabs his phone off of the table and starts clicking through some things. Eventually, he turns his phone, so Keith can see. “This happened.”

He’s pulled up a video from last night. Fans are surrounding the two of them on the sidewalk outside of a frozen yogurt place not too far down from the bar. Flashes from the fan’s phones keep going off, and both Adam and Shiro are laughing about something. From the looks of it, they did handle the fans well, but Keith braces himself.

“Are you guys dating? Like, for real?” a fan asks, her voice giddy, while Keith makes out other fans chattering around her about how cute Adam looks in the USC hoodie he was wearing last night.

“I wish,” Shiro slurs automatically. Real-life Shiro visibly tenses up beside Keith.

There’s a collective ‘Ooooh’ from the fans, and Adam looks at Shiro with a tiny smile before the fan taking the video turns the camera onto herself. Her face contorts as if she’s going to cry, and she mouths “What?”

The video ends and minimizes, and the tweet accompanying it reads “I JUST MET ADASHI AND????” It has 50,342 retweets and 203,194 likes, and the numbers continue to rise in real time.

Keith’s mouth has fallen open, and although it’s a bit of a disaster, he has a hint of a smile playing on his face. Shiro indirectly confessing his love for Adam is nothing compared to the drunken arson or theft that was going through Keith’s mind.

“Did he stay over last night?”

Shiro nods, and when he sees Keith’s smile, he clarifies. “On the couch! Keith, this isn’t funny.”

But when Keith laughs, Shiro laughs too. He buries his face in his hands.

“I was hoping he would be too drunk to remember,” Shiro says, voice muffled. “But this video just immortalizes it. I haven’t heard from him since he left for a meeting at eight.”

“It’s only eleven,” Keith claps a hand on Shiro’s back and shakes him. “And he looked happy in the video.”

Shiro lifts his head, frowning. “That’s how he always looks when he has to throw up.”

Keith starts to laugh again, but this time Shiro doesn’t join in. He sits up fully again with a sigh.

“And besides, Allura isn’t happy. At all,” he shakes his head. “She’s making me do this stupid phone interview with E! at noon to clarify that I was drunk and that there’s no way we’ll ever date.”

“Oh. Yikes.”

Shiro shrugs. “It’s probably the truth, anyway.”

“I’m telling you, he was smiling!” Keith says. “He wishes you were dating too.”

Shiro covers his face with his hands again. “God, that was so stupid.”

Keith runs to get Shiro coffee before his interview, and on the way to Starbucks, he realizes he never told Shiro about Lance. He probably shouldn’t today, anyway. It’s best to wait for this to blow over before he drops another bombshell on him.

He doesn’t need to worry about Keith catfishing a fan on top of the stress of his recorded drunken confession. And if _Allura_ found out now, she’d probably have an aneurysm.

Maybe tomorrow, or in a few days. Or never, if he can help it. Shiro has enough stressing him out, always, he’s realized.

Keith does back to his own apartment when Shiro gets the call from E!, and Kosmo immediately starts whining at his food dish. Keith forgot to feed him yet again.

He can’t pinpoint the moment he became such a disaster, it just happened.

Once he finally gets Kosmo taken care of and no longer at risk of starving or peeing in the kitchen again, Keith tosses his socks out of his drawer to get to his phone. Like expected, he has a missed call from Shiro from last night, along with a couple from Allura. He has some messages from Lance, but he doesn’t even let himself read them.

So he doesn’t forget _again_ , he sets a reminder to post the ASPCA/Bumble promo on Instagram at 2. Then, he fishes through his wallet for the number of that dog sitter before he completely forgets about that, too. Maybe if he gets someone to take care of Kosmo, he can finally get his shit together.

That’s the dream, anyway.

        

**Keith:**

> are you near playa vista?

> I need a dogsitter asap

> like tomorrow ideally

 

He really needs to learn how to interact with people who aren’t Lance or Shiro, but that’s a problem for another day. For now, he watches his screen, waiting for the typing bubble to appear.

Before it does, though, a text from Shiro comes through.

 

**Boss Baby:**

> just got done with my interview

> [photo attachment]

> they asked me about THIS?! WTF

> KEITH WHAT DOES THIS MEAN TELL ME

 

It’s a screenshot of a tweet from Adam – something that Keith _should_ have seen if he’d been keeping an eye on twitter like he’s supposed to. An hour ago, Adam quoted the video from last night with “Oh Shiro, always the romantic ;)” and, of course, it too has thousands of likes and retweets.

Keith can’t help but grin, even if this will piss Allura off even more.

 

**Keith:**

> I think it’s a good thing

        

-

 

Lance screamed with Pidge, Hunk, and Matt when they saw the video, and now he’s screaming again at Adam’s tweet. His friends are on a plane home now, but they’re going to freak out just as much when they see it. He can’t believe this is happening – the day after he met Adam, nonetheless.

 

**Lance (@thesoftshiro):** ADASHI ADASHI ADASHI ADASHI

**Lance (@thesoftshiro):** he looked so cute when he said it too he was definitely blushing omg

>  **Jacob (@canonadashi):** did you see adam’s fACE

> **faith** ***FOLLOW ME SHIRO* (@takashiro):** LAAAANCE IM FREKAING OUT

 

His notifications are going crazy, mostly with likes and retweets of his picture with Adam. He did as he was told and didn’t post it until this morning, and now everyone is wondering if he was among the fans who witnessed Shiro’s admission.

He  _wishes._

**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> I just met Adam, he said you were there, but I had to leave :(

> hope I can meet you soon

 

**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> “I wish” SHIRO IS THERE SOMETHING YOU’RE NOT TELLING ME

> sorry

> but seriously

 

Shiro hasn’t responded yet, but he hasn’t tweeted either, and everyone is waiting for it. What will he reply to Adam with? Lance guesses something equally as cute, and then they’ll tell everyone yes, they’re actually together. And love’s existence will be proven.

“You know it’s probably PR for the new season, right?” Rachel says as she does her eyeliner at her desk.

“Let me liiiiive,” Lance whines. “Adashi is real and nothing you say can prove me wrong.”

She giggles. “You saw the preview. Kenji and Kalvin are even _more_ of a power couple this season. Don’t you think they’d do something to promo that?”

Lance just stares at her, and she lifts her newly-filled-in eyebrows at him in the mirror. Rachel’s always trying to play devil’s advocate, and it’s only fun when they’re watching reality television and talking about who should win. _Not_ when it affects Lance’s life like this.

“But in a video leaked by fans where they’re both drunk?”

Rachel shrugs, clearly trying to think of a rebuttal, but she has nothing. “Okay, yeah. Maybe it’s real.”

Lance smiles to himself. That’s all he needed to hear.

        

**Lance (@thesoftshiro):** my sister thinks it’s a PR stunt but shes wrong and that’s that on that

 

As he sits send on the tweet, a few texts from an unknown number come in. Lance’s stomach flips when he sees the words “dog sitter.” He’s had the ads up for a week now, and he’s picked up every telemarketing call hoping it’d be a prospective client.

Things just keep getting better now.

 

**???:**

> are you near playa vista?

> I need a dogsitter asap

> like tomorrow ideally

 

He reads the text in his usual high-pitched, excited voice to Rachel, who has now begun applying foundation to her already clear skin. Lance is about to give her his usual lecture about how she doesn’t need to clog her pores like that, but she surprises him by stopping what she’s doing and frowning.

“What?”

“That sounds kind of sketchy,” she says, and she begins blotting at her face with her beauty blender again.

“If they live in Playa Vista, they’re rich. They’re probably going on a spontaneous vacation.”

Rachel thinks about this. “Oh yeah, I guess that’s true.”

“Or maybe it’s a celebrity,” Lance says, and then it comes to him. “Oh my god, what if it’s Shiro? Shiro lives in Playa Vista.”

“Does Shiro even have a dog?”

Lance looks around, trying to remember what he knows about Shiro. All he can come up with is the golden retriever named Stan (named after Stan Lee) Shiro had when he was a kid.

“No, actually. I don’t think so.”

Rachel is dusting her face with powder now, and she sits up straight with a smile. “Maybe it’s Cody Ko.”

“Does _he_ even have a dog?”

“Oh,” her smile falls. “No, probably not.”

Lance reads through the messages again, trying to figure out who it could be. Most likely, it’s an old, rich white guy who’s used to getting what he wants immediately. But maybe it’s a _famous_ old, rich white guy. Like Robert De Niro.

Oh my god, if it’s Robert De Niro, Lance will shit his pants.

“You should at least ask to meet with them first,” Rachel says, getting up from her desk as Lance Googles whether or not Robert De Niro has a dog. “You could meet at my Starbucks. It’s in Playa Vista.”

“I’ll see if they can,” he says, and it’s in that moment that he realizes he never replied to begin with.

 

**Lance** :

> im in Inglewood so not far

> um can we meet today to go over things and so I can make sure you’re not going to murder me

> maybe the Starbucks on Jefferson?

        

It doesn’t take long for the maybe-celebrity to reply.

 

**Might be Robert De Niro:**

> oh

> yeah sure

> I should probably make sure you’re not going to murder me too

> I just have to check with my boss and make sure I can leave

> that’s right down the street from me though so it should be fine

> maybe like 2??

 

Lance immediately changes the contact name to “Rich Dog Owner,” because he doesn’t think Robert De Niro has a boss he has to check with. Robert probably does whatever he wants.

 

**Lance:**

> Okay just let me know!!

 

“Alright, I’m leaving,” Rachel says, tightening her ponytail before grabbing her green Starbucks apron from her desk chair.

“I might be there around two,” Lance tells her.

“Cool, let me know. I’ll have a pink drink ready for you.”

“You’re the best,” he sings.

“I try,” she grins, slipping her sunglasses up on her forehead. “Even though that’s the worst drink ever.” She waves, turning to leave for real now. “Bye, twin. Te amo.”

“Te amo twin!” he calls after her.

 

Lance has a text from Rich Dog Owner when he gets out of the shower, confirming their 2 o’clock meeting at Rachel’s Starbucks. He’s excited at first, but the more time passes, the more he realizes what he’s doing, exactly.

He’s about to meet with a stranger so he can go to their house and watch their dog for them. He doesn’t know this person or their dog, or anything about either of them. He doesn’t even know their names.

That’s made even more apparent when he gets in his car, ignoring his anxiety to focus on the possibility of making Playa Vista money, and he gets another text.

 

**Rich Dog Owner:**

> I’ll be the guy in the red and black motorcycle jacket fyi

 

A  _motorcycle jacket?_ What if he’s a member of the mob, and that’s why he has so much money? Lance’s stomach turns, but he puts his key in the ignition anyway.

 

**Lance:**

> ok! I’m heading there now

> I’m wearing a blue hoodie

 

He texts Rachel that he’s on his way and finally gets himself to back out of his parking space. His anxiety makes the traffic on the 405 even more frustrating (and the traffic makes his anxiety worse), but he manages to get there within the half hour he allotted.

Sure enough, there’s a red motorcycle in the parking lot when he arrives. _At least_ , he tells himself as he passes the bike and eyes it, _Rich Dog Owner wears a helmet._

He keeps his eyes on Rachel when he walks in, willing her presence to make him calm down. Lance waves when she spots him, pushing his other hand through his hair.

“Your pink drink,” she says, handing it to him when he approaches the counter.

“You’re actually a goddess,” he breathes out, and she pretends to curtsey.

“Ugh, why would anyone order than drink?” he hears someone mumble, and he whips around to find out who.

There’s only one guy in the whole store, and he’s scowling down at his phone. Two things register when Lance notices him, in this order: It’s Keith, he’s sure of it, and he’s wearing a black and red biker jacket.

Keith – the cute guy from the bar – is Rich Dog Owner.

Just when Lance has caught his breath, he’s unable to breathe again. That is definitely not an old, rich white man or a member of the mob. Keith was too soft to be a member of the mob.

“You order it every time you come in,” Rachel laughs, and Lance whips his head back to his sister. So, Keith _does_ come to this Starbucks. It was him on Friday.

Lance’s phone pings with a notification, but he makes no move to check it. His heart is beating double-time.

“Um,” Keith says, still mumbling, “For my boss, who has terrible taste in—”

Lance glances back to him to see that his eyebrows have shot up. He must have just noticed Lance’s blue hoodie.

“Don’t worry,” Lance gives a big, toothy grin in an attempt to put his charm on. He takes his drink and saunters over to Keith’s table, holding his hand out. “I’m not going to feed your dog pink drink. I’m Lance.”

“Ke—” he clears his throat, slowly taking Lance’s hand and giving it a loose shake. “Keith.”

As soon as he lets go, he looks down at the table and tucks his mullet behind his ear. Lance can’t help but smile at him.

“I remember,” he says. “I bartend at Altea. You were on that date with James Griffin.”

“I wouldn’t really call it a date,” he says, mostly to the table.

“Oh. Sorry,” Lance says. Of course, Keith isn’t actually into guys – that’s just Lance’s luck. Knowing James, Keith was just a random dude he asked for drinks without actually specifying that it was a _gay_ thing. “So, um, you need me to dog sit?”

“Yeah,” Keith says, finally looking back up, his face flushed. “I really do. I work a lot. Um, so I’m not home enough to take care of him. It’d be, like, a permanent thing.”

“Really?” Lance asks, taking a sip of his drink and looking at Rachel. She gives him a quick thumbs up behind the counter.

“Yeah,” Keith pauses, biting his lip. “Um, I could pay you $700 a week. If that works?”

Lance almost chokes on his drink, and he looks back at Rachel again, whose eyes are now practically bugging out of her head. Seven hundred a week would more than cover his half of the rent. He could completely quit his job with that.

“Dude. Are you serious?” Lance asks.

Keith nods, talking in a rush. “Yeah. I mean, if that’s enough? He’s a husky, so he needs a ton of walks, and I hate that he’s alone all the time, so if you could just hang out with him during the day. I think $100 a day is reasonable. I mean,” he laughs softly. “I don’t know much about dog sitter wages.”

“Yeah, no, that’s perfect,” Lance nods quickly. He adds, “I love huskies. They’re so pretty.”

“Would you actually be able to start tomorrow?”

“I mean—”

“It’s just that I keep forgetting to feed him and everything,” Keith admits, his forehead creasing as he frowns. “So, it’d be cool if you could.”

It’s probably Keith’s effortless cuteness that makes Lance say yes without thinking everything completely through. Whatever it is that convinces him, he does it.

“I have to put in my two weeks at work, but yeah. I think I could.”

“Cool,” Keith says, checking his phone. “I actually have to go. But I’ll text you my address.”

He gets up and leaves without saying goodbye, and like an angel, it’s quickly as if he was never there at all. Sure enough, he revs up the red motorcycle right outside the door, slipping the helmet on over his head. Lance blinks, watching him drive away.

“Holy shit,” he hears Rachel say.

When he’s sure Keith’s out of sight, Lance jumps up from his chair and starts dancing. Seven hundred dollars a week to see _Keith_ and hang out with a dog. He has to be dreaming.

“I told you he’d come back to get your number,” Rachel says, a knowing smile on her face. “Even if it was just from your dog sitting ad.”

“Shut up,” Lance laughs, breathless.

He stops dancing only to finally check his phone. It turns out, the notification from earlier was from Instagram, telling him that Shiro posted a photo. And when Lance opens it, he knows it’s a sign: Shiro’s standing in front of the pink wall, holding a _husky_ in his arms and smiling.

It’s a sign that the past few days really haven’t been a fluke. Things really are looking up.

 

**MONDAY, MARCH 26**

 

Keith may or may not spend the next morning with “Should’ve Said No” by Taylor Swift on repeat. He knows he should’ve walked out of Starbucks the second he saw that it was Lance in the blue hoodie. Looking back, he should’ve asked for his name when he was texting him. If he even knew it could have possibly been Lance, he wouldn’t have showed up at all.

Or maybe he would have. He probably would have, considering here he is, still letting Lance into his apartment. He couldn’t just leave him like that, knowing he had the means to help him out just as much as Lance would be helping him.

And yeah, he knows $700 a week is way too much for a dog sitter. Of course he knows. He also knows Lance needs it.

So now here he is, running around his apartment at 7 a.m. before Lance gets there, trying to rid it of any sign of Shiro.

He pulls the photobooth strip of the two of them at Coran’s wedding from the fridge and slips it into his sketchbook, along with the _Kerberos_ cast and crew photo he found himself in at the end of season one. There’s several old to-do lists in Shiro’s handwriting that he has to tear up and throw out.

He even goes through his closet, pulling out every hand-me-down shirt Shiro’s ever given him and shoving them under his bed. He’s missing something – he knows he has to be, but it’s hard to tell. He’s been friends with Shiro for so long, he exists in everything Keith owns in one way or another.

Before he can run through the possible give-aways again, he gets a call from Allura. He knows better than to ignore her two days in a row, especially after he forgot to post on Instagram yesterday.

“Hey, Keith,” she says when he picks up. “Do you have a moment?”

“Uh, sure,” he says, his body doing its usual recoil from fear. At any moment, Allura could find out about Lance. Or at this point, she could fire him for a variety of other reasons. “What’s up?”

Keith takes small strides into the living room, holding his breath. The TV has recordings of _Kerberos_ on it, but that’s normal, right? He knows the show as well as Lance does, if not more. He could pretend to be a fan if he had to.

“Shiro’s probably talked to you,” Allura says, a hint of worry in her voice, “but he’s being stubborn. I told you what my concern is, right?”

“Uh, with Adam? Since they’re both signed onto _Kerberos_ for a while?”

“Yes,” Allura sighs. “He thinks I’m against him, but he doesn’t realize we’re on the same team. It’s my job to make sure his career stays on track.”

“I don’t—I don’t know what to tell you,” Keith says, leaning against the couch.

“I need you to do me a favor. That’s why I called,” She says, and Keith immediately cringes. He knows what’s coming. “Can you talk to him? Try to get him to go to a party and meet people or something. He likes parties.”

“He also likes Adam,” Keith says, lowering his voice at the sound of a door closing and footsteps down the hall. “I don’t know, he seems pretty invested.”

“I know. I’ve never seen him so indignant.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“He said the same thing,” Allura says, laughing. “You guys are more alike than you realize sometimes.”

Keith tries to laugh, he does. But he knows it’s not true. If it were, he wouldn’t have had a problem talking to Lance himself. And he probably would have a different job.

The sound of the door buzzer makes him jump.

“I have to go,” he says immediately, pressing the button to let Lance in. His heart is beating heavier than he’s ever felt it.

“Just try, okay?” Allura says.

“I will,” he lies.

“And don’t forget to post again this Saturday!” she says, her voice quick as she tries to get in as many words as possible before he hangs up. “And since you’ve been forgetting so many things, please put the Calvin Klein shoot in—”

There’s a rhythmic knock at the door and Keith grows a lump in his throat. Kosmo starts barking right away, not used to anyone but Keith in his space.

“Bye, ‘Lura,” he says, swallowing.

He smooths down his hair before opening the door. Sure enough, it reveals Lance’s bright, freckled face. He looks way too happy for 7:30 a.m., and he doesn’t even have coffee. It does something to Keith that he can’t explain.

“Uh, hey,” Keith says as Kosmo pushes around his legs to greet Lance. Keith steps back to let Lance in, but Kosmo immediately jumps up and starts to lick his face. “Kosmo, come on.”

“No, it’s completely fine!” Lance says through giggles. Keith has nothing to do but watch them both, trying not to smile. “Hi Kosmo! I’m Lance!”

 The husky whines, sniffing at Lance and getting off of him only to crouch down into his play pose. Lance takes a few steps into the apartment at a time, and Kosmo eventually lets him in enough for Keith the close the door.

Lance sets what looks like a laptop bag down and kneels for Kosmo now, scratching and petting him while Kosmo whines and runs around him. Keith tugs at the hair on the back of his neck, shifting his weight from one foot to another.

There’s a tug on his heart at the sight of Lance smiling so wide, but he knows he has no right to feel that way. After all, Keith’s not the one Lance thinks he’s confided his anxiety in. He’s not allowed to feel pride at the sight of his pure, unabashed happiness. It feels wrong.

For all he knows, this isn’t what Lance’s pure happiness looks like and he’s just pretending like he was at the bar.

“I have two dogs back home in Rhode Island,” Lance says once Kosmo gets off of him and sits, panting. Lance stays sitting, though, and reaches out to pet Kosmo’s chest.

“Oh. You—you do?” Keith stammers.

A German Shepherd named Toro and a Shiba Inu named Diablo. He knows. He’s seen pictures. It suddenly strikes him then just how creepy this is.

“Yeah, I miss them a lot. So this is _great_ ,” he says, the final word deep with laughter as Kosmo licks his face again.

He finally stands up and Keith can regain his composure. He walks to the kitchen where Kosmo’s dish is, and the two of them follow him. “Um, so I fed him already, but he’ll need food again around 4 or 5. He just gets a cup of it.” He looks to Lance, who’s just nodding, but the mere sight of him in real life and under brighter light makes Keith tongue-tied. “And uh, you know, he’ll need—just take him out every few hours. He’ll bother you. And if you want to—you should take him for a walk, but—”

At the sound of the dreaded W-word, Kosmo gets excited all over again. He whines and jumps and paws – this time at Keith. Lance laughs as Keith facepalms.

“I said it,” he says, voice and smile muffled by his hand. He lifts his head to say, “Could you take him? Once I leave?”

“That’s what you pay me for,” Lance says with a toothy grin. Before the sight can make Keith melt yet again, the smile falls and something sparks behind Lance’s eyes. “Oh! Um, my sister – she’s the one that works at Starbucks. We were talking, and 700 bucks is kind of a lot. Are you sure you—”

“Yeah, no, it’s fine.”

“Really? I feel like I’m robbing you or something.”

“Yeah, I always have way too much left over from my paycheck anyway. My boss, he pays for most—”

“Wow, can’t relate,” Lance says humorlessly.

Keith shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. So, it’s fine.”

“Well thanks,” Lance says. “You don’t know how much I need it.”

Keith’s shoulders fall. _Yes, I do._

For a brief moment, it’s quiet between them. Keith wants to explain to him that he’s not really wealthy, per se, and if he didn’t know the right people, he’d be right where Lance is financially. But that would lead to more explanations, which would lead to him finding out he knows Shiro. Which can’t happen.

So instead he stares at his feet and says, “You’ll have to put him in his harness before taking him, and he’s kind of, um, an asshole about it,” he says. “I can help today, but uh, you might have to wrestle him some days.”

He looks up at Lance, who seems to have been looking at him this whole time. “Perfect,” Lance mutters. He quickly shows his dimples, and Keith has to look away again.

Before he knows it, he’s chasing a buzzing Kosmo around the kitchen and trying to grab him while Lance stands with the harness in hand. When he gets ahold of the dog, he’s able to easily set him in the harness for the first time in months. But he can’t revel in it much because, as Lance is buckling it and Keith’s letting Kosmo go, their arms brush and he gets goosebumps.

He runs his hand quickly over the hair standing up on his arm and clears his throat. “Okay, um, I have to go,” he walks to the table to grab his sketchbook without looking back at Lance. “But you have my number. Text me if there’s any problems.”

He pockets his keys, phone, and wallet, and heads toward the door.

“See ya,” he waves, still without looking.

In the hall, he realizes that he never showed Lance where the treats were. He also knows that Shiro said to take as long as he had to getting ‘the dog sitter’ situated, so he has time. But if he turns back now, he may actually throw up. So he just keeps walking.

 

While Keith’s insides are chaotic, the set of _Kerberos_ is a whole different kind of chaos. One Keith’s used to and, quite frankly, gladly welcomes today.

He isn’t even at Shiro’s trailer yet before he sees a golf cart rocketing toward him and hears Shiro’s obnoxious laughter. He surprises himself by pulling his phone out without thinking and readying his camera for a video.

Shiro’s at the wheel with a look of determination on his face and Adam beside him when the golf cart zooms past. He’s lucky to pick up Adam’s, “TAKASHI, I SWEAR TO GOD, IF YOU DON’T SLOW DOWN!” before they’re out of earshot.

And, like the responsible social media manager he knows he can be, he immediately takes the video to Twitter. The caption, he knows, will be to Allura’s satisfaction.

**@takashitweets:** zooming past the relationship rumors like

It isn’t until hours later that Shiro actually joins him in the trailer, or even needs anything from him at all. He flops down onto the couch with a sigh and covers his face with the single pillow available – one with fan art of him printed on it, which a fan gave to him at a convention last year (Adam warned him that it could be infested with a variety of different things, but he shrugged and used it anyway).

And then he groans, loud and clear despite the pillow barrier.

Keith is about to ask what’s going on when he gets a text from Lance – a _text_ , not a DM. To _him_ , not Shiro – and everything goes out the window.

 

**Lance:**

> I don’t think Kosmo likes me

 

**Keith:**

> he probably just misses me haha

 

**Lance:**

> he keeps biting my arm

 

**Keith:**

> oh

> then yeah he doesn’t like you

 

**Lance:**

> OMG

> KEITH :(

 

**Keith:**

> im KIDDING

> he does that when he has to poop

 

**Lance:**

> oh thank god

 

He can’t help but smile, his face heating up. Texting Lance, it seems, is a lot easier than talking to him. It comes more naturally – Keith is used to talking to him online, after all. Even if it is as Shiro.

He can’t seem to wipe the smile off of his face even when Shiro flings the pillow off of him and looks at Keith.

“Wait, what’s going on with _you?”_ he goes full Big Brother and asks, sitting up. When Keith doesn’t answer, still trying to come up with a way to keep the conversation with Lance going, he peeks at Keith’s phone. “Is that the dog sitter? Is he cute or something?”

“Um. Maybe,” Keith mumbles, which makes Shiro sit up straighter.

“Oh my god,” he says. “Can I meet him?”

“No!” Keith says, way too quickly, and Shiro gives him a weird look. “I just—”

“No, I get it,” Shiro says, smiling easily like usual.

“So, why were you being all mopey?” Keith asks, if only to change the subject away from Lance. It leads Shiro to fall back on the couch with yet another groan.

“I like Adam.”

“We know.”

“Adam likes me.”

“I’m glad you’re finally willing to admit that.”

Shiro lifts his head. “No, he told me.”

Keith’s eyes widen, and for once he can get out of his head and be there for his best friend. “Dude!” he reaches over and shoves at Shiro’s shoulder. “So, what’s the problem?”

But then it hits him. He knows the problem. The problem called him this morning to enlist him to be _part_ of it.

“I mean,” he frowns. “You know Allura isn’t happy about it. Maybe you should—”

“Keith, stop,” Shiro says, covering his face with his hand this time. “I already talked to Adam about it. He convinced me—We’re going to—Well actually, I’m going to need your help.”

“What do you mean?”

“I need you to help me date Adam in secret,” he says. “Like, secret from everyone.”

“Well,” Keith pauses for a beat too long. He looks around in search of the right words to say, but ultimately, he has to say he’ll do it. What else is he going to do? Say no to his best friend – the guy that saved him from a life of pure hell? Of course not. “Okay.”

He shifts in his seat, taking in a deep breath.

Great. More secrets.

 

-

 

“Good _boy_ , Kosmo!” Lance says with way too much enthusiasm. The husky zips into the ginormous apartment and zigzags around the furniture (which looks expensive) faster than Lance has ever seen a dog run. Keith was right – Kosmo had been gnawing on his arm like a chew toy merely because he had to poop. He doesn’t, in fact, hate him.

Lance can’t be too sure about how his owner feels, though. _He_ could still hate him, or at least that’s how it seems. Lance can’t explain exactly _why_ he would hate him. But with the way he’s always so quick to leave Lance’s vicinity, it’s easy to assume it’s a possibility.

Yet that doesn’t stop Lance’s own crush from existing and consuming him like usual. He’s been in awe of the fact that he’s in Keith’s apartment this whole time, or that he even _knows_ Keith now. What it feels like, really, is that fate has brought them together again. It’s given Lance a second chance to get close to Keith without James Griffin getting in the way.

If Keith’s not straight, at least.

The apartment has been taunting him, begging him to take a look around and get to know Keith as much as it will allow. But even he knows that’s a bit creepy, and he decides against it immediately.

Well, he _decided_ against it. That was before now, when he opens the cupboards to look for dog treats and stumbles upon Keith’s mug collection. At the very front sits a purple mug with the _Kerberos_ logo imprinted on it. Lance just about loses his mind.

Keith likes _Kerberos_. He didn’t strike Lance as the type to watch a teen drama, but Lance will take it. Of course, there’s his ever-present voice of reason telling him it’s probably Keith’s girlfriend’s or something, but he’s choosing to ignore it until he knows more. Because _KERBEROS._

The discovery launches a series of questions in Lance’s mind. Who’s Keith’s favorite in the show? Does he believe any of the theories about Ezor’s character actually being an alien? Does he ship K2? Adashi? Does he love Shiro as much as Lance does? Would he watch season two with Lance, since Rachel’s the only person in California willing to, and she doesn’t even like _Kerberos_? 

And also, where can he get a mug like this? He’s never seen it during any of the times he’s perused the _Kerberos_ website, Etsy, and Redbubble for merch. But a mug would be perfect.

If it weren’t for the husky sitting at his feet and whining, he’d forget all about the treats. He uses them, instead, as justification for going through the other cabinets.

There’s your typical Tupperware, plates, and bowls. The only thing that really stands out is a _Twilight Zone_ plate sitting at the top of the stack.

And when he finds the treats, making Kosmo lie down and roll over before tossing one to him, he still can’t get himself to stop. He peeks in the fridge, which has nothing in it except for a bottle of ketchup, a leftover Chipotle bowl, and a bottle of port wine.

This gives Lance approximately nothing. The fridge doesn’t even have any distinctive magnets on it, just a red circle and a blue square that aren’t hanging anything up.

He already knew Keith liked sweeter drinks, based on how he ordered one of the sweetest cocktails Lance can make. Plus, most people eat Chipotle, and Lance respects himself enough not to look at what, exactly, Keith orders.

So while Kosmo waltzes over to the couch, Lance follows him into the living room. There’s not much there either, aside from an Xbox, a few unopened games, and the entire _Twilight Zone_ series on DVD.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

For an hour or so, he gives up there. He sits at Keith’s kitchen table, which is littered with mail, and opens up his laptop to try and get his midterm paper for Hollywood and History done. But he finds himself glancing at the hallway leading to Keith’s bedroom and bathroom, unable to keep focused.

His curiosity gets the better of him – he just wants to _know_ Keith more. So he tiptoes to Keith’s room, leaving his laptop open on the table. There has to be _something_ there.

When he opens the door, though, it seems just as blank as the rest of the apartment. His red comforter is crumpled up on his unmade king-sized bed, revealing plain white sheets. There are no posters or pictures on the walls. The only things on his nightstand are a lamp and a cup of water. The Freddy Krueger and Pennywise POP! dolls on Keith’s dresser are about the only thing that proves this isn’t an Airbnb or something.

So he likes horror. That’s all Lance has to go on. He probably watches _Kerberos_ for the aliens and doesn’t care that much about Adashi or the actors themselves.

Lance sighs, moving to the bathroom, which has a plain black shower curtain and red rug. There’d never be much to go on in here, anyway. At least Keith has separate bottles of shampoo and conditioner.

The additional bottle of 2-in-1 in the opposite corner of the shower makes his brain scream “Girlfriend! The separate bottles are his girlfriend’s!” yet again, but yet again, he chooses to ignore it. Not until he knows otherwise.

He couldn’t ruminate on it for very long anyway. A key turning in the lock and the door opening makes Lance jump out of his skin. He quickly turns the light off and takes two steps at a time out into the living room.

Kosmo has hopped off the couch and run over to his owner. He’s jumping up onto Keith, tail wagging, and Keith pets his head with a smile.

“I was just…going to the bathroom,” Lance says and immediately curses himself for it. _Way to make yourself obvious, idiot._ He wipes his hands on the sides of his jeans as if he’s just washed them.

“Okay,” Keith laughs, and it’s music to Lance’s ears. He sets his keys down next to Lance’s laptop and Lance, now trained to notice anything not completely bland, immediately sees the husky charm on his keychain. Cute.

He stays where he’s standing while Keith goes into the kitchen and pulls the Chipotle from the fridge. Lance can’t help himself – he peers at the bowl before Keith pops it into the microwave. From what he can see, it’s white rice, black beans, sofritas, corn, and Chipotle’s spicier salsa.

“You’re interesting,” he blurts out. What happened to his ability to flirt? He’s such shit at it when it comes to guys.

Keith turns away from the microwave, only to blink at him. “What?”

“Just, um,” Lance plays with his hands, tugging on his fingers. “I made an amaretto sour for you. I would’ve thought you would be, like, the type to get chicken and extra sour cream at Chipotle.”

“You remember my drink order?” Keith asks just as the microwave beeps. Lance can’t decipher his tone and he can’t see his face either.

He scrambles for an explanation. “Yeah, I don’t make a ton of those,” he lies.

“Oh,” Keith shrugs, hair in his face as he opens a drawer to get a fork. “Yeah. Well, Chipotle isn’t that spicy to begin with. I can’t do super spicy stuff.”

Lance smiles. Even still, that qualifies as the man of his dreams.

“Oh good, you found the treats,” Keith says as he leans against the counter and the drawer slides shut. “I meant to show you where they were.”

“Yeah!” Lance brightens even more. “When I was looking, um, I noticed you had a _Kerberos_ mug. I didn’t even know they made those.”

Keith stops in the middle of blowing on a forkful of food, his cheeks turning pink.

“I love _Kerberos_!” Lance assures him. “Seriously. It’s my favorite show. I know it can be kind of embarrassing because it’s made for 16-year-old girls, but I love it. So, you don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“Yeah,” Keith straightens, setting his Chipotle down uneaten. Hopefully, Lance thinks, he’s getting ready to discuss theories. Instead, he just says, “It’s one of my favorites too.”

“Where—where did you get your mug?”

Keith looks up for a second to remember. “Um, eBay.”

“Really? Do you think I could find one?”

“It was Shiro’s,” Keith says, and both his and Lance’s eyes seem to widen at once as Keith stumbles over the rest of his words. “They gave them—Well, I think the cast got them at the season one wrap party. Or something. He put it up on eBay. For—um, for charity? And I got it.”

“I don’t remember him doing that,” Lance says, trying to think. It’s entirely possible the opportunity was forgotten as soon as Lance realized he couldn’t afford to bid against much richer people for a mug, though. One of those richer people, apparently, was Keith. “How much did you end up paying?”

“Uh,” Keith clears his throat. “A couple thousand.”

“Are you serious?” Lance’s eyes widen even further. “Do you think Shiro drank out of it? Wait, is Shiro your favorite? He’s mine.”

“I don’t really—Yeah. I guess he is.”

“He followed me on Twitter a few weeks ago,” Lance says easily, only in an attempt to impress Keith. But Keith hardly looks amused, his eyebrows coming together. “I made him a video for his birthday, and he saw it. He said he showed it to his mom.”

“That’s cool,” Keith says, pulling his phone from his pocket. He barely looks at it before he says, “Shit. I have to go.”

He passes Lance in such a rush that he leaves a breeze behind him, and Lance stares as Keith pockets his keys along with his phone. Kosmo trots after him to the door, mouth open and tongue hanging out.

“Do you want me to put your Chipotle back in the fridge?” Lance asks. He hates how desperate he feels – desperate to keep talking to Keith, desperate to make him like Lance as much as Lance somehow already likes him.

“Uh, you can eat it,” Keith says. He doesn’t look back; he’s already shutting the door behind him. The quiet in the apartment upon him leaving pulls at Lance’s heart.

He grabs the bowl and eats the forkful Keith put down. Something about it feels way more intimate than it actually is, considering how awful that conversation went.

He can cross _Kerberos_ off the very short list of possible conversation starters, he guesses.

 

“He hates me,” Lance tells Rachel the second he gets to his much smaller, much less lavish apartment that night. This very fact was solidified when Keith got home and Lance told him Kosmo was fed and did his business. All Keith said was, “Great. Well, I guess you can go now.”

_Great. Well, I guess you can go now._ He didn’t even offer Lance the option of small talk.

At least tomorrow he has to go to work at Altea before Keith gets back from his own job. That way, he doesn’t have to deal with that kind of rejection two days in a row.

“He doesn’t hate you,” Rachel says. She’s at the table, eating mac and cheese and reading through the monologue for her next audition. Lance takes a fork from the drying rack before sliding into the seat beside her, and he steals a bite from her bowl.

“I promise you he does,” Lance says. “He barely wanted to talk to me.”

Rachel smacks his hand when he goes in for another bite. “There’s more on the stove,” she says, and it’s only when he goes to get a bowl of his own that she discusses the matter at hand. “You just have to talk about something he likes.”

“He had a _Kerberos_ mug,” he tells her, scooping mac and cheese into his bowl. “So I brought it up and he started acting weird.”

“Maybe he found it at a thrift store or something and doesn’t actually know what _Kerberos_ is.”

“He said Shiro put it up on eBay to raise money for charity—which is so _Shiro_ , by the way—and he bought it for thousands of dollars.”

“Right,” Rachel says through a mouthful of food. “I forgot he’s rich. Maybe he’s embarrassed about it.”

“Maybe,” Lance shrugs, and he plops back onto the chair with a sigh. He shovels the mac and cheese into his mouth, pouting. “I just wish I could figure out how to talk to him. He’s so elusive, and he’s always leaving randomly.”

“You could ask him questions,” Rachel perks up. “Don’t they say to do that? People love talking about themselves.”

“Not Keith, or at least I don’t think so.”

“It’s only your first day,” she says. “It’ll get easier.”

“But Rachel, I _like_ him. This is not easy at all,” he leans toward her, grabbing her by the arm. “Teach me your boyfriend-getting ways. Please!”

She shrugs him off, laughing. “Matt’s not my boyfriend.”

“What?” Just like that, Lance forgets all of his own issues. “Why not?”

“We talked about it,” she says, giving him a confused look. She doesn’t seem to understand what the big deal is. “We’re not in the same place at the same time enough. It would be too hard.”

“You’re not even going to _try_?” Lance asks.

It always bothers him when people both have feelings for each other, have the opportunity to date, but then don’t. To him, it’s like they’re wasting something special that only happens once it a blue moon. But maybe he only feels that way because it’s so rare for someone to like _him_ back.

“Was the dog cute at least?” Rachel asks, getting up to put her now-empty bowl in the sink. Lance knows his sister well enough to know that this means he should let it go unless he wants to get punched in the rib.

“Yeah,” Lance says, trying to be enthusiastic. Distance can’t be that hard, especially when Matt and Rachel seemed to like each other a lot. He would be willing to try it with someone if he had to.  

He takes his phone out and shows Rachel his lock screen, which is now the photo of Shiro with the husky he posted yesterday. “It looked just like this dog,” he says. “Like identical. It felt like a sign yesterday, but when I saw Kosmo today, it felt like the universe was speaking to me.”

As soon as he got to Keith’s apartment, he wanted to DM Shiro. About Keith, the dog, everything. But Shiro still hasn’t answered the last five DMs he’s sent him, and he doesn’t want to bother him, especially after he was nice enough to at least try to Skype during his busy schedule.

Rachel sits back down and studies him, hands folded under her chin. “You should just ask him out.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“I work for him, technically,” he says. He can see Rachel about to say, “So?” so he adds, “And like I said, I’m pretty sure he hates me.”

“Okay,” she nods slowly. “So here’s what you do. You look around his apartment to find out what he likes, and—”

“I tried. There’s nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Right? It’s weird. He had some stuff but not much. He had like two things in his fridge.”

“How does a person that rich not have any food?” Rachel asks, looking at Lance like he’s insane. He was wondering the same exact thing.

“Maybe it’s a rich people thing.”

“Maybe,” Rachel sighs. “Then I guess all you can do is ask him questions. And maybe do something nice for him,” she says, and a smile creeps onto her face, “like make him food or something.”

Lance laughs, because he knows it’s supposed to be funny, but all it does it send him into a spiral. _Maybe do something nice for him._ She says that as if that isn’t Lance’s love language, like he didn’t look in Keith’s fridge and consider immediately going grocery shopping for him. Like he didn’t see his room and consider getting him a Kerberos poster and some decorative pillows. Like he wasn’t immediately tempted to organize Keith’s abundance of mail and throw out all of the junk for him.

The thing is, Lance would go above and beyond ‘making him food or something,’ and he knows that, which is why he feels like he shouldn’t do anything at all. He doesn’t want to annoy Keith. He doesn’t want to be _too much_ anymore. He just wants Keith to like him.

_You’re never not enough or too much for someone who appreciates you and who is worthy of your time._ Shiro’s words ring clear in his head, but he knows he has to be realistic.

It is entirely possible for him to scare Keith off. So for now, he has to walk on eggshells.

Ugh. He pulls his legs up onto the chair and crosses them underneath himself, resting his head on the table. This dog sitting thing is proving to create even more problems, but at least he doesn’t have to worry about being homeless anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's be friends!  
> [TWITTER](http://www.twitter.com/stephclaires)  
> [ART INSTA](http://www.instagram.com/literatidraws)  
> 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Keith starts to relax and a friendship blossoms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all I got this chapter done so early and I'm almost done with chapter 7 I am so proud of myself..hope u enjoy!

**THURSDAY, MARCH 29**   
  


It’s been nearly impossible to be anything but a complete asshole to Lance. Keith has been so caught up in not giving himself away that at first, he didn’t even realize he _was_ being an asshole.

He’d just book it out of the apartment or get Lance to go home and immediately feel the relief of not having to pretend he’d just met him, of not having his shortcomings and mistakes staring him right in the face.

But then yesterday happened.

Lance was off to work at the bar before Keith got back, just like he was on Tuesday. It was different this time, though, because there was a bottle of hot sauce and a container of homemade cupcakes on his counter.

A note accompanying them, propped up against the hot sauce, read:

 

_Keith,_

_Thanks for everything! I didn’t know if I should satisfy your sweet tooth or your…hot tooth?? Spicy tooth?_

_Anyway so I did both. This is the BEST hot sauce ever. My mamá has bought it from this Mexican market where I’m from for as long as I can remember. Thank GOD I found it here in L.A. (at Northgate Market on S. Prairie Ave if you need a refill). Put it on anything that’s not spicy enough and it makes it 10x better._

_The cupcakes are my abuela’s recipe. They’re strawberry! My sister wouldn’t let me help make them but it’s for the best._

_Kosmo’s new friend,_

_Lance_

_P.S. DON’T!! Put the hot sauce on the cupcakes. I tried, and it was NOT GOOD. I repeat NOT GOOD._   
  


Keith softened upon reading the note, and as he tried a cupcake (it was nothing short of amazing), he found himself missing Lance’s company. Maybe it was because the note contained facts about Lance that Keith didn’t know for once – Lance isn’t great at baking and he apparently tries to put hot sauce on everything. Maybe it was how the sheer kindness of the gesture wildly contrasted how standoffish Keith has been.

Whatever it was – he’s been itching to get home and talk to Lance all day. And it’s been a long day.

Promo for season two of _Kerberos,_ which premieres a week from Saturday, has officially kicked off.That means early mornings and late nights full of interviews and appearances once again.

Keith had to leave to get Shiro up and to his first interview before Lance got there this morning. He wanted to stop home during a midday break, but Shiro insisted on treating him and Adam to lunch. So, to his dismay, he hasn’t so much as _seen_ Lance since before the gifts appeared in his kitchen.

        

**SHIRO (@takashitweets):** AAAAAaaaaaaND promo has begun! Finishing up the day at buzzfeed and I can’t wait for you guys to see this season

        

Keith rubs his tired eyes as he sends the tweet, yawning. In a way, he sends it only to remind himself that the day is almost over.

“Hey, we’re Adam and Shiro from—”

“Wait, I want to say my name,” Shiro says, cutting Adam off. A member of the Buzzfeed crew laughs from behind the camera.

At first, Keith wasn’t sure how he was meant to help the two keep their relationship a secret from the world. They’re the ones who are in the damn relationship, after all. But this day of promo has shown him exactly what needs to be done.

They need to be babysat.

Shiro and Adam always do promo for _Kerberos_ together since their characters are a “power couple,” or whatever the fans call them. It’s always been fine. But now that they’ve both recently admitted their feelings for each other, they’re more chaotic than Keith has ever seen them.

Together, they have approximately one lovestruck braincell, and Keith has to make sure they don’t do anything completely obvious. He planned to spend the day in the background, drawing in his sketchbook, but he hasn’t picked up his pencil once.

All day, they’ve been flirting and staring at each other while they talk, both clearly in awe that the other feels the same way. And now at Buzzfeed, they’re reading _thirst tweets_ together, which is just a catastrophe waiting to happen.

“You’re holding the bucket, and I’m saying the names,” Adam leans over to grab the container holding the tweets, but Shiro pulls it out of his reach. Adam falls over onto Shiro’s lap and stays there a second too long before righting himself.

“Hey, I’m Takashi Shirogane,” Adam says, his face turning red.

“And I’m Adam Wright.”

“Do people know us enough for us to do that?”

“They know _me_ enough.”

Adam shakes his head with the same tiny smile as the one he had when Shiro said he wished they were dating. He takes a deep breath and starts, “And we’re—”

“And we’re from _Kerberos_ ,” they say at once.

A disaster. An utter disaster.

Keith’s been trying to come up with ways to discreetly tell them to cool it down. So far, he’s successfully gotten them to notice widened eyes and a dramatic waving of his arms as he mouths, “No! Stop!”

But that’s it, and they are always back to this five minutes later.

Adam is the first to pull a tweet from the container, and it seems his entire body pales. He bites his lip, stifling a laugh, and Shiro leans over to read it. His mouth moves as he reads along before he cracks up.

“Read it,” Shiro says, voice breaking.

“’Takashi Shirogane radiates big dick energy,’” Adam says, trying to say it evenly but reaching an entire octave higher at the end. “’I just know it. I know it’s big.’”

Shiro crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, satisfied. “We’re starting off strong.”

Adam rips the paper up and throws it. “We’re not going to talk about it.”

“My turn,” Shiro hums, reaching into the container without looking, like he’s choosing a lottery winner instead of a dirty tweet. He reads it easily, straight face and all. “’Adam Wright is so fine. Like yes daddy teach me how to do math in your khakis. Shut up that’s so hot.’”

While he speaks, Adam watches him with lips parted. He has such tragic heart-eyes that Keith immediately begins waving his arms in an attempt to get Adam’s attention, to get him back on track. One of the Buzzfeed staff members gives him an odd look. Shiro makes eye contact with Keith and clears his throat.

“You know, I’m actually pretty bad at math,” Adam says, still looking at Shiro.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I just say what they tell me to.”

Before Adam can get another paper from the bucket of tweets, Shiro makes a T-shape with his hands, signaling a time-out. Adam, usually so smart, is completely unaware of what’s going on.

“Can we have just a minute?” Shiro asks.

“Uh, sure,” the same staff member that looked at Keith weird says. Keith thinks his name is Jonathan or something, but it doesn’t matter.

At the other interviews, they weren’t able to do this. But because it’s Buzzfeed, Shiro stands up and unclips his mic without a problem. Adam does the same, eyebrows weaved together in confusion, and follows him out from under the bright lights of the set to where Keith’s standing.

“What’s the problem?” Shiro asks, as if he doesn’t already know.

“You guys are being way too obvious,” Keith whispers, glancing around at the staff. Most of them are listening, of course, trying to come up with good content for a story or quiz or something. Keith grabs both of them by their sleeves and pulls them a tad further away.

“We’re reading _thirst tweets,”_ Adam says. “How unassuming can we be?”

Keith pinches the bridge of his nose. “We prepped for this specifically. Remember the Malec one we watched? Just…be platonic.”

“Be platonic,” Shiro repeats, squinting at Adam as though that’ll will it to occur.

“Remember Malec,” Adam says, doing the same.

Keith misses when they both thought this thing between them was one-sided and were hiding their affection. It was a heck of a lot easier then.

The rest of the filming goes as smoothly as you’d expect from a video that is going to be titled “Takashi Shirogane and Adam Wright Read Thirst Tweets.” Adam and Shiro try their hardest not to stare at each other, but Keith gives up when he realizes that’s not any better. They’re always going to look like they like each other, and fans are going to read into this regardless.

On their way out of the office, a bright-eyed Buzzfeed intern stops them to ask if they’re really together. Shiro opens his mouth, ready to stammer, and Keith cuts him off.

“Just on the show,” he says lazily, looking down at his phone.

“We’re pretty convincing, right?” Adam smiles.

While they take selfies with the intern and a few other staff members, Keith opens up his conversation with Lance.  
 

**Keith:**

> Are you still at the apartment?  
  


**Lance:**

> Yep :) I worked a day shift today

> Just took Kosmo on a you know what  
 

**Keith:**

> You know you’re allowed to type it, right?  
  


**Lance:**

> he could be able to read

> you never know

> I have this theory that dogs can understand English they just can’t speak it soooooo  
 

**Keith:**

> I…never thought of it that way

> But I’ll be home soon  
 

**Lance:**

> Oh

> Should I head out then?  
  


**Keith:**

> No!  
  


Keith can’t type it fast enough. But as he reads it back, he realizes just how aggressive the exclamation point makes the message.  
  


> Just letting you know. I’ll see you soon.  
 

There’s an obvious frown on his face when he looks up from his phone. He hates that Lance feels like Keith doesn’t want him there, that he doesn’t want to be friends.

He _does_ want to be friends with Lance. At least he thinks he does. As he watches Adam and Shiro say their goodbyes to Buzzfeed, he considers it.

A friendship with Lance wouldn’t be the end of the world. Shiro has been so caught up in his job and hiding his blossoming relationship that he hasn’t so much as asked about Lance since Monday, and if the two ever met in another setting, there’d be so many fans that Lance wouldn’t have time to talk about their Twitter DMs.

It’s fine.

It has to be fine, anyway. Because Keith is going to finally let himself have a face-to-face conversation with Lance without running. He needs to. He can’t keep chickening out.

 

-

 

In the last two days, Lance has discovered that Keith’s couch is the most comfortable couch he has ever sat on. And that includes every single couch in Ikea. It’s just that comfortable, and it probably cost him thousands of dollars.

He leans back into the incredibly soft cushions and Kosmo curls up beside him, clearly enjoying the fluffiness just as much as Lance.

Well, probably more.

Anxiety has been brewing in Lance’s gut since he closed out of his conversation with Keith fifteen minutes ago. He’s going to be home soon.

Lance hasn’t seen him since he left the cupcakes and hot sauce for him, as per Rachel’s suggestion, and all day, he couldn’t tell if he was more bummed or happy about that. He _was_ too nervous to give them directly to Keith, after all.

He’s just nervous about how Keith will react to it. There are two cupcakes missing, but that just means he enjoyed the cupcakes. That doesn’t mean he enjoyed the gesture of it.

What if he thinks Lance was coming on to him? Well, he sort of _was_. But straight guys beat people up for that kind of stuff. Or what if Keith _is_ gay and he doesn’t get the hint? Or what if he does get the hint, but he thinks Lance is lame and annoying?

It’s killing him, not knowing. He clicks out of the blank word document he has up on his laptop – another feeble attempt to get his Hollywood and History paper done – and opens up Shiro’s Twitter to distract him like usual. Seeing the ‘follows you’ still beside his name is enough to raise Lance’s spirits, but there’s also a new tweet about promo.

And promo means more Adashi content.

Okay, yeah, he saw Shiro’s tweet denying their relationship. But he doesn’t believe it. It was probably posted by management or something; Adashi’s chemistry is undeniable. He kind of has a theory that that’s why Shiro hasn’t DM’d him back in a while – maybe he doesn’t want Lance to ask about Adam.

It makes sense. In his head, at least. Most of his theories only really make sense in his own head, but that doesn’t make them any less real.

Shiro’s also RT’d the cutest selfie of Lotor, Ezor, and a puppy at the Buzzfeed office, which just gets Lance’s mind running about what exactly Shiro and Adam are doing there. If they did another interview with puppies, but _together_ , he’d go nuts. There’d be too much cuteness in one room.

Thoughts of _Kerberos_ may make his anxiety subside, but it doesn’t make it go away completely. He realizes this when he jumps out of his seat the moment he hears the lock click on the door.

“Hey,” Keith says, shutting the door behind him with his foot on his way in. He has his hair up in a ponytail, a look Lance has never before seen on him, and Lance has to keep his jaw from dropping.

“Um, hey,” he says, scratching behind his ear. He waits anxiously for Keith to tell him to go.

Kosmo sniffs at the bag of food Keith’s holding, and Keith snatches it up before the dog can paw at it. “So,” he clears his throat, “I got way too much food at Panda Express.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad problem to have,” Lance says. He rocks back and forth on his heels, trying not to stare.

The ponytail is just a tiny nub at the back of Keith’s head, loose hairs escaping the tie all over. It’s a mess, but it looks so _good._

God, how did he not even consider how Keith would look with his hair up? It’s so long and looks so soft. It’d probably look incredible in any kind of style – like braids, or a bun, or half up and half down.

Aaand he’s thinking of running his hands through Keith’s hair to braid it.

“Do you—” Keith glances at him, tucking a stray hair behind his ear. Lance glances away; he did, in fact, end up staring. “Do you want some?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Keith says, and he sets the bag of food on the table to get plates from the kitchen. Lance takes slow, uncertain steps to the table, still waiting for him to change his mind.

He flips open the Styrofoam containers – Kung pao chicken, beef and broccoli, chow mein, and fried rice. There’s no way Keith got this all for himself, so he relaxes a bit. Then, he feels himself smile. Keith got some for him.

“You know,” Lance says as Keith brings the plates and silverware over, “You eat way too much fast food.”

Keith laughs. Albeit a little awkwardly, but he laughs.

“I don’t have time to make food,” he says, pushing all of his mail to the side to make room on the table. “I’m always—Well, I mean—I’m always working.”

As they load their plates, Lance remembers his sister’s advice. _Ask questions._ But what if Keith doesn’t want to answer questions about himself? What if he kicks Lance out the second a question leaves his mouth? His throat suddenly feels like it’s closing.

“Where do you work?” he forces out.

Keith looks up at him, but when Lance tries to meet his eyes, he looks away. “I’m, um,” he sits down with a sigh. “I’m a personal assistant.”

“Like to a celebrity?” Lance asks.

Keith’s mouth twitches, and he nods. Whoa.

Lance can’t help the way he takes a surprised step back and nearly drops his plate, or the way words just start to fall out of his mouth. He can’t believe he knows someone who knows someone famous.

“Are you serious?” he squeaks. “Who?”

Keith just blinks, keeping his eyes down on his plate. “Um, that’s confidential,” he says, just before stuffing a forkful of chow mein in his mouth.

“Oh, right. Of course,” Lance says, trying to even out his voice. He finally sits down at the seat beside Keith. “Is it really cool, though?”

Keith shrugs. He’s starting to be cold and closed off again, and Lance is starting to find it hard to breathe. His mind is reeling, telling him to abort mission and ask something else, but his curiosity is getting the best of him.

“I’ve known them most of my life,” Keith says, chewing. “So it’s not a big deal.”

_Them_. It could be anyone.

Lance forces himself to take a bite, trying to settle himself down as much as he can. He can’t annoy Keith. Not yet, at least. This is all just too much to take in – talking to Keith, learning about him, _and_ finding out he knows someone famous.

It could be someone from _Kerberos_. It could be Shiro. Holy shit. What if it’s Shiro?

Okay, okay. He can’t ask that. Not after the way Keith bolted last time Shiro was brought up.

“Did you get my gift?” Lance asks, cautiously, as the conversation lulls. He watches as Keith grins, and his shoulders fall in relief.

“Oh yeah! Thanks,” he says. “The cupcakes—they’re really good. I haven’t tried the hot sauce yet.”

“It’s the best around,” Lance says, taking another bite of his food as his nausea begins to recede. At least he doesn’t have to worry about getting beat up anymore. “Seriously.”  

“I always need—” Keith starts, but his eyes widen in the cutest way, like he’s just had a lightbulb moment.

He jumps from his chair to get the hot sauce from the fridge.

“Let’s see if this is as good as you say,” he says, shaking it out all over his food.

“Um, of course it’s as good as I say,” Lance says. He almost stops there. Almost. But the tilt of Keith’s head and the sudden teasing in his voice gives Lance all of the confidence he needs to try and flirt. “I did get a less spicy version of what I usually buy, though. I wasn’t sure if you could take the heat.”

“If I could—Lance, I can take the heat,” Keith says, serious as ever, but it makes Lance smile wide. Keith just pours more sauce onto his plate.

“Gimme some of that,” Lance says, reaching out for it. He can’t help but notice that Keith hasn’t taken a bite yet.

Once Lance does though, food lathered in hot sauce, Keith follows suit. And his face goes red almost immediately.

Lance watches him, waiting for him to surrender, but he takes a few more bites without a word. It isn’t until he chews on a piece of now-spicy broccoli a few minutes later that he shows any sign of giving up.

Keith slams his fork down on the table, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Oh god,” he gasps and jumps back up to get a glass of water. He takes in another deep breath after gulping down the entire glass. “You’re right. I couldn’t take the heat.”

“I’ll take this,” Lance says, grabbing Keith’s plate and sliding his food onto his own plate. “Also, water doesn’t help. It’d be better if you had milk.”

“I’m lactose intolerant,” Keith says, one hand on his hip and making a point to emphasize how he turns the sink back on to get another glass of water.

“So am I, and I still eat ice cream.”

“It gives me—It makes me sick,” Keith comes to sit back down.

“You really are interesting,” Lance says, shaking his head.

All of the commotion has gotten Kosmo’s attention from his spot curled up on the floor. He saunters over, sitting at Keith’s feet and placing a paw on his knee.

“What?” Keith says. Kosmo responds with a whine. “Kos, if I couldn’t take the heat, you definitely can’t.”

Lance declares to himself in that moment that he’s never met anyone like Keith. He talks to his dog as though he’s talking to any other person, and he doesn’t brag about how he works for a celebrity. He only drinks sweet alcohol, but he likes spicy food. He’ll flood his plate with hot sauce to prove a point, but he won’t drink milk because it gives him a stomach ache.

Definitely interesting.

Kosmo whines again as Keith makes a new plate of food and puts a reasonable amount of hot sauce on it this time. “Kosmo, I swear,” he says. “You throw up when you eat spaghetti. But if you ask Lance nicely, maybe he’ll give you some chow mein.”

Lance feels his cheeks burn as pulls out a noodle from the to go container and dangles it over Kosmo’s head for him. Keith also may or may not be warming up to Lance. Finally.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, opening up his text conversation with Rachel under the table.  
  


**Lance:**

> I think your cupcakes worked  
  


**Less attractive twin:**

> everyone say thank you abuela  
  


Lance closes his eyes for a second. _Thanks for your cupcake recipe, abuela,_ he thinks. When he opens his eyes, Keith is dangling another chow mein noodle over Kosmo’s head, trying to get him to roll over, but all he’s doing is spinning around on his butt.

Keith’s glowing now, laughing – the complete opposite of how he was a couple days ago, or even ten minutes ago. And he’s quite possibly the most beautiful guy Lance has ever seen.

_And if you have any say in it,_ Lance continues to pray to his grandma, _please make this time be different._

 

**SATURDAY, MARCH 31**

   
By Saturday, things are starting to look up for Keith. He’s made sure Lance knows he doesn’t completely hate him, and he’s had a few decent conversations with him without wanting to disappear, which he considers a success.

Adam and Shiro have toned it down a notch, too.

Well, when he says toned it down, he means they’ve gone back to how they were before Shiro’s recorded confession. The amazement of each other’s reciprocation has worn off and now they’re just…themselves.

“Romelle is coming and bringing buffalo chicken dip,” Adam says that night, scribbling into a notebook balanced over Shiro’s legs, which are slung over his own.

Despite Keith’s insistence on “relieving” his dog sitter when they returned from set, they’ve talked him into staying at Shiro’s apartment while they plan the season two premiere watch party.

“Do we really need to plan this?” Shiro asks, his mouth full of cupcake and the audition monologue for a movie he most likely has no time to film in his lap. “I’ll just have everyone come over. The end.”

“Let me paint you a picture, Takashi,” Adam says, gesturing in the air with his pen in hand. “Fifteen tired actors come to your apartment to watch themselves on TV and cringe. You run out of alcohol and food before the show even begins. Everyone hates you.”

Shiro starts laughing this loud, belly laughter that Adam’s joke doesn’t call for whatsoever. “No one is going to hate me.”

“I’ll hate you.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Try me,” Adam says with a smirk. “I’ll have to watch us kiss with everyone around and pretend I don’t—”

Shiro cuts him off by sitting up, taking Adam’s face in his hands, and kissing him. Adam flushes, and Keith looks away.

“All I’m saying,” he hears Adam say as Shiro falls back, “is that I’m going to need a beer or two to get through that.”

“You shouldn’t drink,” Keith says, more at his phone than at Adam. He’s had Twitter open for the last half hour, distracting himself with it any time the two start to flirt. So basically, he’s been staring at Shiro’s timeline the entire time. “If you get drunk, you guys are gonna make yourselves obvious immediately.”

This watch party could be a train wreck because of more than just that. They’re going to be right down the hall from where Lance will be, and the chances of him recognizing any of their voices is pretty high. Maybe Keith can send him home, tell him he can take care of Kosmo for the night.

He’s trying not to worry too much about it, only because things have been going so smoothly this week. Even when he gave Shiro some of Lance’s cupcakes, Shiro didn’t ask about him. Lance hasn’t tried to guess who he works for or even brought up Shiro since Monday.

Everything has been so beautifully separate that he doesn’t want to believe it could go wrong.

“He’s right,” Shiro says pointedly. “A shortage of alcohol wouldn’t be so bad.”

“We’re not the only ones who are going to be there, Takashi.”

“I have water.”

“Hey, I’m going to go,” Keith says, standing and pocketing his cell phone. “It’s getting late.”

It’s getting late, and he wants to see Lance before he leaves. The more time he spends with him without running, the more he _wants_ to spend time with him. And a collective hour every day is not nearly enough.

“See you tomorrow,” Shiro waves as Keith heads for the door. “Tell Lance I said thanks for the cupcakes.”

“Yep,” Keith nods, even though that’s definitely not going to happen.

“Can I practice this monologue in front of you?” Shiro asks Adam.

“Once everyone gets back to me about the party.”

“That could take—” Shiro starts, but Keith doesn’t hear the rest before he closes the door.

He takes long strides to his own apartment, keys out and ready. He doesn’t want to admit the skip in his step or the way he feels like singing now that he’s seconds away from seeing Lance.

_We’re just friends_ , he repeats to himself. _That’s all we’ll ever be._

“Hey, sorry I’m so late,” he says, stepping into his apartment.

He can tell something is off, though, before he even looks at Lance. The apartment is dark aside from the light above the stove, and Keith hears Lance shudder in a breath.

He’s on the couch with his laptop open, which is normal enough. But when he turns to Keith, he wipes his eyes quickly.

“Hey Keith,” he says too cheerily. He sniffles when Kosmo, sat up beside him, leans in to lick his nose.

“Are you…okay?”

“I’m fine,” Lance says, smiling wide, but the smile still doesn’t reach his eyes. Keith doesn’t hide his own frown, and now he’s mentally kicking himself for being so excited.

Lance thinks they’ve only known each other for a week. They’re barely even friends at this point, and Keith realizes how stupid he was to think a single hour where they joked around and ate fast food could change that.

_Of course_ Lance isn’t going to tell Keith what’s wrong. Why would he?

But Keith wants to help, like he’s done in the past without fail. His fingers twitch toward his pocket; he’s tempted to disappear for a minute just to talk to Lance as someone he’d tell anything to.

“Sorry,” Lance wipes his eyes again, his face scrunching up. “Oh god, I’m stupid.”

He stands from the couch, shutting his laptop and slipping it into his bag. Head down and eyes away from Keith, he slings the bag over his shoulder and pets Kosmo.

“Sorry,” he says again. “I’ll just—I’ll go.”

“Wait,” Keith says before Lance can even take two steps toward the door, his desperation blatant. Lance stops and finally looks at him with red eyes. “What’s, um, what’s wrong?”

He’s practically pleading with Lance, the way he says it. He’s pleading with him to prove him wrong, to prove that his advice and attention is valuable whether he’s Shiro or not. To prove that he has even a semblance of a chance of being friends. Or more, if that were possible.

“I don’t want to bother you,” Lance says, looking away again.

“You’re not bothering me,” he insists, his voice stern.

Lance looks back at him, his eyebrows coming together sadly. He still hesitates, and Keith is seconds away from telling him everything he knows already, that he doesn’t judge him for it and that he’s _here_. But something tells him that would just make everything worse, so he keeps his mouth clamped shut.

They have what can only be described as a stare-off.

“It’s late, I don’t want to—” Lance says, but his voice breaks before he drops his bag and his lip quivers.

He pushes the tears that begin to fall away. Kosmo jumps off of the couch and onto him, barking, trying to become a part of the conversation. It only seems to make Lance cry harder.

“I just have this stupid paper due Monday that I’ve put off all week,” he sobs. “I don’t even know what I’m writing about, and I’m pretty sure I’m failing the class already, so it feels kind of useless. I don’t know. But if I fail, I—”

His breathing is quickly becoming shallow, and Keith blinks at him, unsure of what to do. He didn’t think he’d get this far.

Shiro doesn’t have panic attacks, at least not in front of Keith, so he’s never had to help anyone through one. He’s always just been the one having them.

“I mean, I’m a film major. I’m only good at editing videos. Why do I have to write a fucking paper?” He wipes his eyes more aggressively this time. “I just—I don’t – I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Keith takes a step forward, biting down on his lip. “I’m sure editing videos isn’t the only thing you’re good at.”

“Well, I’m not good at writing papers, that’s for sure,” Lance laughs humorlessly before gasping. “And I’m just exhausted. I should’ve just—I should’ve—I should’ve just quit at Altea when I got this—this job and let them figure it out without me. I’m so stupid.”

Keith is silent, running through everything he could possibly say and deciding against all of it. But the longer he goes without saying anything, the worse Lance’s breathing gets.

Without thinking too much more, he puts his hands on Lance’s shoulders like Shiro always does for him. He’s about to tell him to breathe, to walk him through the usual technique, before he realizes at the last second that that would give him away immediately. He’s already walked him through that – as Shiro.

So then he just stands there, hands on Lance’s shoulders, looking at him and trying desperately to come up with something new.

Lance looks back at him and shudders. “S-sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “I hate myself.”

“Do you want to do something semi-illegal?” Keith blurts out, and Lance’s shoulders fall.

“Wh-what?”

“Lets—let’s go swimming,” Keith says. It was the first thing he could think of. When they first moved to L.A. and Shiro was busy all day every day, Keith would sneak into the apartment pool when he couldn’t sleep or was feeling so anxious, he thought he’d throw up. And it always, always helped.

It’s kind of stupid, considering he and Lance barely know each other, but it’s something. There’s no going back now.

“Sw-swimming isn’t illegal,” Lance says, the mere confusion distracting him enough for his breathing to begin to go back to normal. “Keith, a-are you okay?”

“The pool is closed,” he says as a way of explaining before grabbing Lance’s arm and leading him to the door. “C’mon.”

He doesn’t protest as they leave the apartment or as Keith’s locking up. He just says, “I have no idea what’s going on,” as he follows Keith down the hall.

Adam and Shiro laugh just as they pass Shiro’s apartment and Keith cringes as Lance looks back curiously. Thankfully, though, he’s so caught up in not understanding what Keith’s doing that he doesn’t look twice.

“Is this actually i-illegal?” Lance hiccups once they reach the gate to the pool. The lights are still on in the water, illuminating it a calming shade of blue.

Aside from the sound of crickets and a car door shutting in the nearby parking lot, it’s quiet. It’s just them.

“No, I don’t think,” Keith says as he hoists himself up on the fence and climbs over it. Once he’s on the other side, he cocks an eyebrow at Lance through the bars. “Why, are you chicken?”

It didn’t take long for challenging each other to become their thing.

“No,” Lance says immediately, the pout disappearing on his face, and he hops the fence smoothly.

They tiptoe past the decorative palm trees, and Keith curses when he trips over one of the poolside recliners. It’s loud enough that they both look back to make sure no one has heard them.

Then, they reach the edge of the water, and Keith stops. He didn’t think this through, clearly. In order to swim, he’d have to—

“Well, what are you waiting for, mullet?” Lance asks, kicking his shoes off and shedding his jeans without reluctance. He pulls his shirt over his head, plugs his nose, and jumps in.

 

-

 

Lance’s teeth are chattering when he comes up for air. Swimming during the end of March isn’t the best idea in the world, but if Keith’s intentions were to distract Lance, he succeeded.

He’s just getting ready to jump in himself, pulling his black shirt off to reveal his stomach, the hint of abs and a happy trail just barely noticeable under the dim pool lights. He’s already taken his jeans off, standing only in a pair of red boxer briefs.

Lance ducks back under the freezing water before he can catch him staring. The water ripples, sending a deep whoosh past Lance’s ears, as Keith jumps in.

“Holy shit, we’re going to get hypothermia,” Keith says, his own teeth chattering, when they both pop back up.

“Weak,” Lance teases, and he starts to swim laps just to keep himself warm. It can’t be _that_ cold that they’d get sick. They do live in California, after all.

“I’m incredibly thin skinned,” Keith says, swimming after him. “Both literally and metaphorically.”

“I’m just metaphorically thin skinned,” Lance says. When he turns, Keith is snickering only a foot or two away, and a gasp escapes Lance’s lips before he can stop it.

Keith is somehow more beautiful with his hair wet and slicked back, his flushed skin now tinted blue by the lights. He’s breathless, his chest rising and falling heavily beneath the water. Lance ducks again and swims another lap.

Why, why does he have to get crushes so easily? Keith would never like him. The stillness beneath the water brings him back to the present, and he remembers again what Rachel said about asking questions. He has to start asking questions or else he’ll just keep swimming laps to avoid Keith’s eyes.

“Jesus, how are you so fast?” Keith asks. He’s where Lance left him, nearly at the other end of the pool.

“I played soccer for six years,” Lance calls, and he swims back to him even faster. Water gets up his nose and he starts to cough. So much for trying to impress Keith. “Have you always lived in L.A.?” he asks through his coughs.

“I’m from Texas.”

“Texas,” Lance repeats in the worst southern accent, making even himself cringe. But Keith just smiles down at the water. “Takashi Shirogane is from Texas.”

“That he is,” Keith nods.

Lance leans his head back into the water with a groan. He begins floating on his back, just wading there. He closes his eyes, listening to the crickets and trying his best to be a normal, calm person who doesn’t get crushes on people he’s known for a week.

“Ugh, that reminds me,” he says up to the sky after a minute. “I was also sort of panicking because—Okay, so you know how I told you Shiro followed me on Twitter like a month ago?”

Keith clears his throat and Lance tilts his head to look at him. He doesn’t say anything, only nods again, so Lance goes on.

“Well for a few weeks, he was talking to me – like through DM – and it sort of seemed like we were friends, but I asked him to Skype with me and my friends last week and he hasn’t talked to me since,” Lance says, and his heart starts to speed up as the worries come back to him. They’d just all started spiraling into each other before, one thing after another. “I feel like I pissed him off.”

He can already feel himself start to panic again at the thought of Shiro, his hero, being mad at him. His breathing gets so shallow he has to get off of his back and start wading water right side up again.

“I’m sure you didn’t piss him off,” Keith says, and there’s an edge to his voice that Lance can’t read, but he finds it hard to read Keith regardless. “I’ll bet he’s just—he’s probably just busy. And besides, we didn’t come out here to think about what you’re worried about.”

_Well_ , Lance wants to say, _he’s been online, tweeting and liking other fans’ tweets._ So as much as he wants to believe Shiro’s just busy, his brain won’t let him.

“You’re right,” Lance says instead. He tries to laugh, shaking his hair out partially to splash Keith, but mostly in an attempt to get the anxious thoughts out of his head. “Race you?”

He doesn’t give Keith a chance to respond, kicking his legs obnoxiously behind him as he heads toward the other end of the pool. Keith holds his own, surprisingly, nearly catching up to Lance by the time he reaches the wall.

“I could’ve beaten you,” Keith coughs.

“Don’t kid yourself,” Lance says. Before he can talk himself out of it, he asks, “Will you watch the _Kerberos_ cast on the Late Late Show with me on Tuesday?”

He can feel himself getting annoying, knowing that Keith doesn’t exactly love talking about _Kerberos._ But Rachel has to work early the next day, so she can’t stay up, and he’d rather watch it with Keith than alone. Obviously.   

“I, um,” Keith wipes his nose. Lance has gotten used to the chill in the water by now, but Keith’s teeth are still chattering. “I have a late night on set that day.”

“Set? So you work for an actor?” Lance asks, mostly as a joke. He wiggles his eyebrows, but a part of him hopes Keith will answer him seriously so he can narrow it down.

At this point, it still could be Shiro. Keith’s known his boss most of his life, which means his boss is from Texas. Shiro is from Texas. Then again, so is Hilary Duff, Beyoncé, Jamie Foxx, and Steve Martin. So.

“Models also work on sets,” Keith says.

“So you work for a model?” Lance asks. This, at least, makes Keith laugh.

“You’re never going to guess it, you know,” Keith pushes at the water to splash Lance. He starts to swim away before Lance can get him back, but he stops and turns back to him soon after. He opens his mouth to say something else and Lance cuts him off.

“Just tell me, do you work for Beyoncé?” Lance asks, which just makes Keith laugh harder. He laughs along with him, trying to imagine Keith doting after Beyoncé and getting her coffee all day. “I mean, it could be the set of a music video.”

“I don’t work for Beyoncé.”

“Okay, so it’s not Beyoncé,” Lance pretends to make a mental note. “Sorry. What were you going to say?”

“I was going to say I’ll watch the season two premiere with you next weekend,” Keith says, and Lance’s stomach drops. “At your place, if you want. Since you’re always at mine.”

Lance blinks. He’s suddenly feeling the chill of the water all over again. He obviously wanted to do that too, but he didn’t think Keith would be the one to suggest it.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, for sure.”

“Cool,” Keith grins.

He’s trying not to read too much into it. To him, it sounds date-y, especially since _Kerberos_ means so much to him. But he has to remind himself that friends go over each other’s houses to watch TV all the time. This isn’t anything special.

And besides, he doesn’t even know if Keith likes guys. Maybe James would tell him what happened with the supposed ‘date’ if he asked. No, probably not. Keith would’ve told him if he wanted him to know.

“Hey,” someone calls from the other side of the fence before Lance’s brain can start to spiral again. “The pool closed two hours ago!”

It’s not necessarily security – just a girl who probably works in the leasing office, or something. But Keith doesn’t hesitate to jump up out of the pool as though they’re about to get arrested.

He gets out so fast, Lance doesn’t even get a chance to admire his back muscles.

“We have to go,” Keith says, now at the edge where Lance is standing in the water, frozen in place. He holds out his hand and Lance grabs it, letting Keith help pull him out.

Keith keeps his hand in his, leading him to their clothes. This is all a rush to Lance’s head. He only drops it to gather their clothes and run toward the fence.

They didn’t even bring towels.

They’re both dripping, still in their underwear, as they slip over the fence and back into the apartment building.

 

“Why is your hair wet?” Rachel asks the second Lance gets home. It startles him; he thought she’d be asleep, but instead she’s lying on the living room floor, her audition monologue beside her. “Did you guys shower together?”

“No, oh my god,” he says.

“You’re the one who thought I was going to sleep with Matt.”

“That was different,” he says. “You guys were kissing. Keith and I are just friends.”

This just makes her sit up. He forgot that when he left her this morning, he still wasn’t sure exactly where they stood. They had fun eating Panda Express on Thursday, but that was just one time. It didn’t necessarily mean they were _friends._

But now that Keith has seen Lance mid-panic and they’ve both seen each other in nothing but their underwear, it’s safe to say they’re friends. Or at least a tad bit past acquaintances.

“We went swimming,” he says, and Rachel’s eyebrows shoot up.                

“Swimming?” she says. “In March?”

“It’s almost April.”

“Did he let you borrow swim trunks or something?”

“We swam in our underwear.”

“Hmm,” Rachel hums, setting her monologue in her lap. She grabs a highlighter from beside her and begins doodling absent-mindedly. “Sounds pretty gay.”

Lance perks up, but only for a moment before he realizes the true context of what happened. He sighs, plopping down onto the couch. “It wasn’t like that. I was having a panic attack, so he took me down to the pool to distract me.”

“Still sounds gay.”

“Yeah, shut up,” Lance laughs. “Tell me something, though. Is it gay that he wants to come over next weekend to watch _Kerberos_?”

Rachel pretends to think for a minute. “No, compared to swimming in your underwear at 11 at night, that sounds pretty platonic.”

Lance shakes his head. “That’s what I thought.”

He really doesn’t want to get his hopes up. Every time he does, he just ends up brokenhearted. He shifts in his seat, his wet underwear still soaking through his jeans.

“When’s that audition?” he asks.

“Monday,” Rachel groans. “I’m really hoping I at least get a callback. It’s a small part, but it’s a multi-episode role on _Grey’s Anatomy_.”

Lance pulls his head back, surprised. “Will you get to meet Alex Karev?”

“Not at the audition,” she says, “but probably if I got the part.”

“So you have to get the part,” Lance says simply. He’s pretty sure Alex Karev was his gay sexual awakening when he and Rachel watched Greys Anatomy in high school, though he wouldn’t admit it to himself at the time.

He wants to talk to his sister more, to catch up on her life since he’s either been at Keith’s or at the bar this whole week. But his wet underwear is getting more and more uncomfortable the longer he sits in it.

“You’re sitting in the underwear you swam in, aren’t you?” Rachel asks, reading his mind as he squirms.

“Well, what was I supposed to do?” Lance asks. “Ask him to borrow a pair of his?”

“He’s rich. He probably has an unused pair somewhere,” Rachel says.

“I had to buy him hot sauce.”

“Fair,” Rachel shrugs.

Lance stands up without another word and turns around to show her the wet patch on the back of his jeans. It transferred to the couch and his car seat, but he doesn’t tell her that.

“Toma una ducha, cochino! That’s so gross.”

“Toma una ducha, cochino,” he mocks, but he walks to the bathroom and turns on the shower anyway.

His jeans stick to his legs as he attempts to pull them off, since they were wet when he put them on to begin with. He’s about to pull his shirt off when his phone buzzes on the bathroom sink.

He jumps at the sound, but immediately checks it. Part of him is sort of hoping it’s Keith, but it’s just Twitter.

 

**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> Sorry Lance, things have been so hectic with promo and everything

> Adam and I are NOT dating sorry to burst your bubble hahah

> Wow I can’t believe I missed you! Hopefully I’ll run into you sometime soon. But I’m sure Adam was great to see!

 

Okay. Not _just_ Twitter.

 

**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> omg it’s okay shiro!!

> I loved meeting Adam but I hope we can meet soon

> are you sure you’re not dating? Do you at least have a crush on him? You can tell me I wont tell anyone adskljfdj

 

Lance waits for the typing bubble to appear. When it doesn’t after a few minutes, he switches over to his conversation with Keith.

 

**Lance:**

> Shiro answered me :)

 

**Keith:**

> :)

 

Lance doesn’t think he’s that sad about Keith’slack of a full response because he wouldn’t expect him to respond any other way. But then Keith’s typing bubble reappears, and Lance is way more relieved about it than he should be.

 

> did you think any more about what you’re going to write your paper about?

 

**Lance:**

> We just watched the wizard of oz in class before break, so I’ll probably write about how it’s symbolism for the guilded age.

> it’s pretty basic but I wrote a paper on that in high school sooo that’ll help me write it in a singular day

 

**Keith:**

> sounds pretty insightful to me

> you can do it!!! I’ll be back at the apartment for lunch to motivate you tomorrow

 

_Ur so cute_ , Lance types out, but he backspaces it. He shouldn’t be that obvious just yet.

 

**Lance:**

> Thanks Keith :)

 

Keith sends another smiley, this time the emoji with the little hearts surrounding it, and that gives Lance way too many butterflies. It’s the perfect note to step into the shower on, washing any of his anxiety away so he can focus on that one tiny emoji.

The warm water pours over his head and loosens his muscles, sending the smell of chlorine through the air. He closes his eyes, and he smiles to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's be friends!  
> [TWITTER](http://www.twitter.com/stephclaires)  
> [ART INSTA](http://www.instagram.com/literatidraws)  
> 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the facade begins to fall apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha ive been talking myself out of killing myself all day but I didn't realize how depressed I was until I realized I forgot to post this

**TUESDAY, APRIL 2**

“Where are you?” Shiro asks through the phone as Keith fills his motorcycle with gas. Today’s day on set wrapped up about an hour ago, and after stopping at In ‘n’ Out to eat, he’s on his way back home to see Lance for a bit.  

Conversations with Lance are quite possibly the best part of his day.

Yesterday, he let it slip that he’d never played the 8-ball game on iMessage, and Lance was appalled. He promptly started a game with Keith this morning, and Keith beat him all three times they played.

He can’t wait to rub it in, to see that determined look Lance always has when he’s being challenged. It’s probably the most attractive expression Lance can wear, which is saying something, because Lance is always attractive.

“Um, getting gas,” Keith says. “Where are you?”

“CBS,” Shiro says. “Where you should be.”

Keith sighs, blinking thoughts of Lance away quickly. Did he forget an interview? He’s been so good at remembering things lately, now that he has Kosmo taken care of and Lance and Shiro are still so beautifully separate. But maybe something still slipped through the cracks.

“I thought we didn’t have to be at James Corden until, like, 11:30,” he tries. But Shiro’s rarely wrong when it comes to things involving his career, and if there’s another interview, he’d know.

“No dude,” Shiro says. “It airs at 12:30 Eastern and Pacific. We film—Well, they’re starting to film like right now.”

“Are you serious?” Keith stops pumping gas and pulls the nozzle out of his tank. It’s only half-full but it’ll have to do for now.

“Yeah, we all went directly from set,” Shiro says. “We’ve been in hair and makeup. I thought you went and got coffee or—Wait, can you get me coffee?”

“Ooh, me too!” Keith hears Adam say in the background.

“Me three!” comes from Romelle. He waits for Lotor or Ezor to sound off as well, but thankfully it never comes. Less celebrities he has to disappoint that way.

“I can’t. I’m on my bike,” he says, talking so fast Shiro might not even be able to understand him. “Shiro, I told Lance I had a late night tonight.”

“Well, you do,” Shiro says. “You really need to utilize the calendar app, kid.”

“Don’t call me that,” Keith mumbles.

“I said Keith.”

“Yeah, right,” he says, choking out a laugh. “Why do we have a late night?”

“We’re back on set tonight.”

So he wasn’t lying to Lance at all, for once. He’d revel in the beauty of that if the whole situation didn’t have him in a sudden frenzy. He tells Shiro a quick goodbye before weaving around cars on his bike to get to CBS Television City.

Adam is passing his keys and a list of drinks scribbled on the back of an Olive Garden receipt to Keith as soon as Keith shows his pass to security. “Take my Volkswagen,” he says. “We’re going to need the caffeine.”

And he’s right back out through the doors. Keith stares at the car for a moment, trying and failing to understand why Adam would trust him to drive his car. It’s not the most expensive car in the world, but it’s still German and everything costs double to replace than any normal car.

He supposes Adam could afford it.

Keith returns, luckily, without crashing or spilling coffee all over the interior. Security recognizes him as he juggles two trays of drinks and lets him in without showing his pass.

He lets out a sigh as he makes his way backstage. All is good and well and fine. They’re being interviewed by James Corden now, nothing was delayed because he was late, and they’ll all have coffee as soon as they get a break.

“Yeah, I did have to dye my hair pink for this role,” he catches Ezor saying from the TV in the green room (or what James calls the “purple room,” even though it’s literally painted green).

The five main cast members are seated on a couch beside James, hair and outfits styled much more elegantly than when Keith last saw them on set. Shiro and Adam are strategically seated at opposite ends of the couch. They’re both paying attention to Ezor, which is great because Keith has no way of telling them to stop looking at each other today.

“Why is that?”

Ezor shrugs. “It definitely suits Claire’s character, for sure.”

“And other totally non-spoilery explanations,” Lotor says, grinning.

“Okay, now I have to ask,” James says playfully. He leans toward them to whisper, “Is Claire an alien?”

“We’re all aliens,” Shiro jokes, and James’s eyes widen.

“Seriously?”

“No.”

“Oh, hello Keith!” Allura says, making Keith break his eyes away from the screen. Her presence certainly explains why Adam and Shiro are sitting apart. “It’s so wonderful to see you.”

“Um, hey Allura,” Keith says, forcing a smile and taking a sip of his chai.

“How are you?” she asks happily, scanning the table behind him and moving to grab an apple. “I’ve noticed you’ve improved your punctuality with the social media posts.”

“I’m okay. Uh, sorry I didn’t get you your pink drink,” Keith says, rubbing the back of his neck. “It wasn’t on the list Adam gave me, and I didn’t know you were—”

“It’s quite alright, Keith,” Allura smiles before taking a bite of her apple. Keith can’t help but notice that she chews and swallows before continuing, rather than just talking with her mouth full. “I’m just here to make sure everything goes the way it’s supposed to.”

“Right,” Keith nods, glancing away.

“Speaking of Adam,” Allura goes on, and it’s the question he’s been waiting and preparing for this entire conversation, “how is that whole thing going?”

Keith clears his throat, which is suddenly dry. “As you’d expect,” he says. “A lot of pushback. Shiro’s having a viewing party for the season two premiere, so I’m trying to talk him into inviting more than just the cast.”

He’s lying through his teeth. Keith glances back to the TV, and the sounds of applause come into focus. A commercial break, which means the cast’s own break before another segment.

“Ooh!” Allura says. Keith’s lie has at least pleased her. “Tell him to invite Jonathan Groff. Or maybe Ezra Miller?”

Keith watches the door. Any minute now. C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.

“I was thinking Keiynan Lonsdale,” he says, and Allura tilts her head. “He’s in _The Flash_ , and he was in _Love, Simon_.”

Allura brightens in recognition, but before she can respond, the door opens and the cast piles in. Allura puts her hand on his shoulder, and he tries not to sink away from her.

“We’ll talk more later,” she whispers with a wink, as though they’re on some secret mission together. Keith just breathes out a laugh and waves at Shiro as he comes in, walking toward him as if he signaled for him.

He is only able to run the possibility of Keiynan and Shiro fake dating through his head for a few seconds before Romelle is calling his name.

“Keith, oh my god,” she says, tilting her head back as she takes a sip of her latte. “You are my savior.”

“Literally,” Lotor seconds. He’s already downed half of his double shot on ice.

Allura comes over and tosses her half-eaten apple in the trash so she can adjust Shiro’s tie and smooth down his collar. “You did great sticking to the talking points,” she says.

Shiro just nods and glances over to Adam, who is talking to his own publicist. Ezor’s sat with her feet curled up on a chair in the corner, on the phone with what Keith can only guess is her manager.

“What’s next?” he asks.

“Spill your guts or fill your guts,” Shiro and Allura say at once.

“Remember, don’t answer anything,” Allura says to Shiro immediately. By the look on Shiro’s face, she’s already said this to him multiple times. “We don’t need any trouble.”

Shiro cringes. “You _really_ want me to eat bugs instead?”

“Would you rather have a bunch of articles to deal with tomorrow morning?” Allura asks, frowning.

In his head, Keith hears Lance telling him if the cast plays spill your guts or fill your guts, he hopes they answer something. “Celebrities always just eat the stuff,” he complained yesterday. “It’s so boring.”

He almost wants to say that, to give an outside opinion, but he keeps his mouth shut. That wouldn’t go over well.

Before Shiro himself can answer, Romelle comes to join their conversation. Her hair is up in space buns, and her cheeks are highlighted with glitter to match the sequins on her pink skirt.

“I’m afraid they’re going to ask me to rank you guys or something,” she says. “I couldn’t do that.”

“I definitely could,” Lotor says from the table of food, mouth full of muffin. Romelle and Allura roll their eyes.

There’s a knock at the door, and a girl in a headset pokes her head in. Her staff pass dangles from around her neck. “We’re back on in five, guys,” she says. Then her eyes meet Keith’s. “Did you want to watch from the audience?”

“Oh, uh, sure,” Keith says, and he smiles at Shiro. “I’ll try to avoid sitting in your vomit trajectory. I’ll save that for an adoring fan.”

“Ha ha,” he hears Shiro deadpan as he heads to the door.

Keith follows the staff member down the fluorescent-lit hall and to a set of doors leading to the audience. The crowd is full mostly of young girls, those closest to Keith eying him curiously as he’s directed to a seat a few rows back from the stage.

He spots Shiro’s parents at the end of the row and waves. Of course, the girl beside him notices.

“Do you know Shiro?” she asks, eyebrows lifted.

“My dad works with his mom,” he lies. She doesn’t respond, just lifts her chin in acknowledgment and goes back to talking to her friend. Keith only begins to relax.

There’s excited chattering from everyone around him as they await the cast’s return. He almost wants to settle into his seat and pretend he’s one of them, just waiting to see his favorite celebrity up close.

But he can’t, exactly. At least not in his mind.

He knows what’s coming – this game is usually when they ask direct questions about the celebrities’ sex lives and relationships. Allura told Shiro not to answer, and he’s sure everyone else’s publicist did too, but that doesn’t mean they won’t give away anything. Sometimes not answering is an answer in itself.

The audience claps as the curtain opens and Keith sits up straight. The cast is now sat behind a long table and James Corden stands beside a spinning wheel with the names of the food on it, a set of cards in his hands. Keith’s stomach turns in anticipation as James explains the rules.

“Shiro, you’re up first,” James says eventually, and Shiro nods with his best brave face on. “What would be the worst thing to eat on here, do you think?”

“Eh,” Shiro scrunches his face up, leaning back to survey the options on the wheel. “Probably the 1,000-year-old egg. That just…is that even edible?”

“Well hopefully you won’t have to find out,” James says, and the audience laughs together as he spins the wheel. Keith squints; it lands on “bull’s penis.”

He holds his breath while James prepares to read the question, adjusting the cards in his hands.

“Okay. Shiro, _Spider-Man: Homecoming_ was your first major project,” he says, pausing for dramatic effect. Shiro nods. “Rank these Spider-Men from best to worst: Tom Holland, Andrew Garfield, Tobey Maguire, and Nicholas Hammond.”

Alright. For the time being, Keith can breathe.

“C’mon James,” Shiro says. “Tom’s my friend, and I grew up with Tobey’s Spider-Man. I can’t possibly—”

“Just eat the penis,” Ezor says a few chairs down from him. “You eat dick all the time.”

It elicits another laugh from the audience and a glare from Shiro. Keith just huffs, shaking his head. Shiro looks down at the bowl in front of him, grimacing.

“I mean, wow,” Shiro says. “Nicholas Hammond, he’s one of the originals-” He doesn’t say more, just takes his fork and stabs it into the bull penis before taking a bite. He winces as he chews and takes a long sip of water before swallowing. “Yep. Uh, that’s chewy.”

The cast watches him in awe and in fear for their own turn, each with arms cross uncomfortably or eyebrows raised.

Keith relaxes into his chair as the game moves on to Lotor, who is now trying his best to look like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Once again, Adam is sitting on the opposite end of the table, so he doesn’t have to worry until then. The rest of the cast will just—

“Lotor, there have recently been a lot of rumors surrounding the off-set relationships of the _Kerberos_ cast,” James says, and Keith has to sit back up. “Who has hooked up with each other, that you know of?”  

“Okay, that’s easy,” Lotor says, pushing what looks like some kind of smoothie away from him. Keith has to hold his breath once again. “No one. But we do all have the same theory as everyone else, that Shiro and Adam like each other. They just can’t admit it because the contract lasts so long.”

Romelle and Ezor’s mouths have dropped open in disbelief. Adam’s face has turned bright red. Shiro is face palming, and Keith can only mirror him.

“Shiro, do you have anything to say to that?” James laughs.

“Nope,” Shiro shakes his head, hand still on his face. “Not my turn. I have nothing to say.”

James at least leaves it at that and moves on to asking Romelle about the group of friends she’s always hanging out with. Keith only begins to relax as the host basically asks Ezor to spoil the first episode of season 2 and she has to eat a scorpion.

“You know, bugs are a great source of protein,” Adam says, smirking beside her.

“Okay, you’re not playing Kalvin right now. No need to get all science-y,” she tells him before taking the smallest of bites. Everyone watches on as she takes forever to chew. Once she finally swallows, she shivers, shaking out her arms above the table.

“I better not end up suing you for this, James,” she says. Lotor leans over Romelle and grabs the scorpion to take a big, brave bite of his own, but he ends up spitting it out only seconds later.

And then it’s Adam’s turn, and Keith is once again on the edge of his seat, his heart beating in time with the wheel as it spins. It lands on bird saliva, and a member of the crew brings it out in a fancy-looking wine glass. How do they even—

“So, we know you’re pretty private about your romantic life,” James says, and Adam eyes the glass in front of him anxiously. “That’s all well and good. But just tell us, who is the most famous person you’ve gotten past first base with?”

“The most famous?” Adam asks, stalling. To Keith, he’s obviously trying not to look at Shiro. He hopes it isn’t so obvious to all of the fans around him.

“Uh huh,” James says, pleased with himself.

Keith watches while Adam considers it, and he hopes that he’s made out with Harry Styles or Joe Jonas or something. Literally anyone more famous than Shiro. Because Adam looks way too wary of the drink in front of him.

“Well,” Adam takes a breath and Keith braces himself.

There’s a pause that feels way too long. But then Adam picks up the glass and downs it like a shot. Keith sighs in relief as Adam grabs the bucket under the table and spits into it.

 

-

 

Now is not a great time for Lance to be falling asleep at the wheel.

He’s been awake since 6 a.m. and he has not slowed down since. He went to Keith’s to take care of Kosmo before his 9 a.m. class, worked a mid-day shift at Altea, then was back in class by 3. He stopped at Keith’s again to take Kosmo out, and then _returned_ to LMU to work on a project for production sound theory in their studio.  

And now the 405 is bumper-to-bumper, stop-and-go traffic, and Lance might actually be tearing up. All he wants to do is take a nap.

But he can’t take a nap because Shiro is going to be on James Corden in approximately – he checks the clock on his dashboard – three hours. He has to stay awake until 12:30 a.m. Or actually 1:30 if he wants to watch the whole thing, which of course he does.

“Ughhh,” Lance groans, lying his head down on the wheel. The cars ahead of him still move along at a glacial pace.

“…about how Takashi Shirogane from _Kerberos…”_ the KXLU host says faintly from the radio, and Lance snaps his head up at the sound of Shiro’s name. He immediately cranks the volume. “…will be near campus this Friday, so stay tuned for that.”

Lance’s heart starts hammering in his chest as the newest Jonas Brothers song starts playing. _Near campus? How could he have not heard about this until now?_

He keeps his eyes trained on the radio, only slinking forward in his car when the person behind him starts beeping. After that, Lance keeps his eyes on the road ahead, but he holds his breath when the song ends.

The two sophomores that run KXLU this hour start talking about who the superior Jonas Brother is, and Lance falls back against his seat. This isn’t important, and the answer is clearly Joe.

Finally, his exit is coming up, but he can’t leave the car until he hears about Shiro.

“Okay,” the host laughs. “So, we have an inside scoop for all twenty people who listen to our show.”

Lance leans forward again, his eyes glancing wildly from the road to the radio. The girl pauses, as if knowing he’s on the edge of his seat and punishing him specifically.

“We’ve all seen Shiro’s sponsored posts about ASPCA and Bumble partnership that he’s been posting on Instagram.”

“How could we not?” the other host joins in. “That dog makes him look even better than he already does.”

Lance taps his fingers anxiously on the steering wheel, still crawling along the highway. _Yeah, yeah. Get on with it_ , he thinks.

“But they’ve all been about the events the two companies are doing across the country,” the first host says. “They haven’t been involving Shiro specifically. So, I did a little digging.”

“The ASPCA event in Playa Vista is this Friday, right?” the cohost asks, playing along.

“Right. And on their calendar on their website, the words ‘with Takashi Shirogane’ are included in the name of that event,” the host says excitedly, and Lance’s eyes widen. “My guess is they’re not going to promote that part of it until the day of the event. Like, they don’t want too many people to come just for Shiro, you know?”

“Exactly,” the cohost says. “If a ton of fans showed up, it’d completely scare the dogs.”

“It is a ticketed fundraiser for ASPCA as well,” the host says, “but yeah, for sure. They want the dogs to get adopted, not for people to just show up, take a picture, and leave.”

“Which is what we will be doing.”

The host laughs into the mic. “Okay, I’m going to consider adopting a dog and smuggling it into my dorm.”

“You’ll have to name it Shiro too,” the cohost says, and they both keep laughing.

“But yeah, consider getting your ticket now before it’s publicized too much,” the host says eventually. “We gotchu with the exclusives here at KXLU.”

Their conversation cuts to a Shawn Mendes song, and Lance stares ahead at nothing in particular. His heart is still beating fast as he takes his exit.

Holy shit.

He’s going to meet Shiro.

Kosmo is excited to see him when he unlocks the door to the apartment, all too aware of what’s coming. But before he can take the dog on a walk, he needs to get a ticket to this event as soon as possible.

He pulls his laptop out and sits at the kitchen table, opening another tab to accompany the 20 he already has open and searching for ASPCA’s website. Sure enough, the event on their calendar says, “with Takashi Shirogane,” but it isn’t listed anywhere else yet.

A few clicks around, and he has a ticket. Kosmo whines at his feet, crouching down into a pose before jumping up and pawing at his legs.

“I’m going to meet _Shiro_ on Friday, Kosmo,” he says, and now he really is tearing up.

This just serves to rile Kosmo up more. He starts running back and forth and then bolts to the door, practically jumping on it. He makes the oddest sound, one that Lance can only describe as a baby’s babble if it we’re ear-splitting and made by a dog.

Lance slaps his hands to his thighs. “Are you ready for a walk?”

The excitement gives Lance enough energy to wrestle Kosmo into his harness and take him on a walk around the block, smiling the whole way. Even if he were still tired, Kosmo’s pulling and excitement over any moving thing would keep him wide awake.

But as soon as he slips the key Keith gave him into the lock when he returns, he suddenly feels his exhaustion again. And it’s only 11 – a whole hour and a half before the show even starts.

He unhooks Kosmo’s leash and harness, and he just wants to flop down onto Keith’s too-comfy couch and sleep for hours. He gives Kosmo a treat and starts to do jumping jacks just to keep himself awake.

But Kosmo jumps on him, riled by this and clawing at Lance’s shirt. So he starts walking up and down the hallway, but Kosmo follows his lead there too, barking at him.

On his way back to the kitchen, he eyes the stack of mail on Keith’s table that just keeps growing by the day. He could organize that, maybe. That way, he’ll kill two birds with one stone: stay awake and indirectly flirt through another nice gesture.

Yesterday, he did Keith’s dishes because he always looked more and more stressed every time he added a dirty utensil to the sink. When Keith noticed, he looked like he was _maybe_ considering hugging Lance. He wants to know what hugging Keith feels like.

Of course, he’s doing it to help Keith out too – there’s got to be hundreds of expired coupons in this stack. And this can be Lance’s way of thanking him for paying him enough that he didn’t have to worry about spending $30 of his Altea paycheck on a ticket to meet Shiro.

He pulls Keith’s garbage can over to the table and sits down, starting with the promotional stuff. Almost all of the coupons are expired, and he must throw out about ten unused McDonalds pages.

Keith doesn’t eat at McDonalds. Noted.

He’s obviously not going to _open_ the mail, so when he gets to the sealed stuff, he starts to separate it by most-likely-junk and most-likely-important.

Every now and then, he’ll glance at the clock. It’s nearing midnight, and though he has to keep his drooping and burning eyes widened to stay awake, the organizing is in fact helping.

But he must have something akin to the spidey-sense when it comes to Shiro’s name. As soon as he hears or sees it, he’s wide awake. And he’s just seen it. Multiple times.

He flips through the stack of mail in his hand, blinking hard to see if he’s hallucinating. But it stays there, clear as day: _Takashi Shirogane, Apt. 208; Takashi Shirogane, Apt. 208; Takashi Shirogane, Apt. 208. Takashi Shirogane, P.O. #79385; Takashi Shirogane, P.O. #79385._

His heart might give out soon with how hard it’s been beating today, both from coffee and Shiro excitement. Is this Keith’s idea of an April Fools prank?

No, he couldn’t possibly have known Lance was going to organize his mail. And they were buried beneath coupons. He scrambles for his phone and opens up his conversation with Keith.

 

**Lance:**

> why do you have shiro’s mail

> wait

> its him isn’t it you work for him ASJDFJ

 

Keith takes a while to reply, the typing bubble appearing and disappearing. Lance smiles at his phone as he awaits the confirmation.

 

**Keith:**

> he lives down the hall from me and sometimes his mail ends up in my box.

 

Lance tries to ignore the inclusion of a period, which Keith never uses, and starts typing. As he types, he gets up and peaks his head out the door and down the hall, where Shiro may or may not be right at this very moment.

 

**Lance:**

> you have like all of his mail

> omg keith are you STEALING it

 

**Keith:**

> no lol

> what are you doing going through my mail anyway

 

Panic sets in Lance’s gut as he slinks back into the apartment. _He’s mad, he’s mad,_ his brain is screaming. _Abort mission!_ He knew he’d annoy Keith sooner or later.

 

**Lance:**

> I was just trying to organize the mess on the table haha

 

**Keith:**

> well don’t.

 

**Lance:**

> Sorry :/

 

He stares at his phone, waiting for the typing bubble to appear. But it never does, and his heart sinks. _You’ll never stop annoying people,_ his brain keeps saying. _Maybe you should just stop trying to be nice._

Yeah, that’s a great suggestion from his brain, but the way Lance acts is just what comes naturally. He’d have to rewire his DNA to stop being annoyingly loving.

He hesitates as he returns to the kitchen table and considers just finishing what he was doing. He was almost done anyway.

But he doesn’t want to annoy Keith more than he already has, so he just plops down onto the couch and turns the TV on to CBS. Stephen Colbert is on with Timothée Chalamet now anyway, and that’s good enough for him.

His eyes droop as Timothée talks about working with the rest of the all-star cast and Greta Gerwig on _Little Women._  

Maybe he can just…

…take a little…

…nap.

“Lance,” Keith says. It’s a wonder it even wakes Lance up, he says his name so quietly. Keith smiles at him as his eyes slide open. “Hey.”

Lance’s head is groggy as he takes in that he’s curled up on Keith’s incredibly soft couch. Kosmo’s at his feet, snoring. Lance flicks his eyes to the TV, finally remembering where he is and why he’s here once he sees Shiro, Lotor, Romelle, Ezor, and Adam on the screen.

They’re playing Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts on James Corden. Which he just completely slept through.

“Shit,” he mumbles before yawning.

“Did you sleep through the whole thing?”

“Unfortunately,” Lance groans, lying his head back down. “It’s been a long day.”

Keith sits on the couch opposite him and props his feet up on the coffee table. Either the table is from IKEA or he just doesn’t care. “Hey, sorry for kind of going off on you.”

“What?” Lance yawns again, rolling over to face him. He rubs his eyes, and he finally sees Keith clearly. His hair is up in a terribly messy bun that sends Lance’s stomach into cartwheels.

“About the mail,” Keith clarifies, playing with his hands. “I just get weird about Shiro living by me. Everyone always tries to get me to introduce them, and I know you really like him, so…” He looks up and meets Lance’s eyes. “Sorry.”

“Oh,” Lance stares at Keith. No one has ever apologized to him for something like that before; he’s always been the one in the wrong. He’s not really sure what to say. “Yeah. I just thought it would help. You’re always pushing the mail away and stuff.”

Keith nods, this tiny smile on his face that Lance can’t begin to interpret. “You’re awesome,” he says. “You know that, right?”

“Wait, what?” Lance asks, but Keith just shrugs.

He feels his cheeks burn, and he’s grateful for the darkness of the living room. The only light is coming from the TV and the dim kitchen light behind him.

“Thanks, Keith,” he says. He can’t help the disbelief that shows up in his voice.

Keith clears his throat, nodding. His eyes flick to the TV, and Lance follows his gaze. Lotor is on the screen, the three-chili-pepper smoothie in front of him.

“…do all have the same theory as everyone else, that Shiro and Adam like each other,” Lotor says. “They just can’t admit it because the contract lasts so long.”

Lances jaw drops. “Are you kidding?” he says, sitting up and pointing to the screen. He turns back to Keith. “See! This is what I mean. Imagine if he’d just drank the smoothie. It’s so much more exciting when they answer.”

Keith just smiles, looking like he’s on the verge of laughing while Lance rambles. But somehow Lance knows he’s not laughing at him, not exactly.

“What do you think?” Lance asks.

“What?”

“Adam and Shiro,” he says. “Do you think they’re dating?”

“Oh!” Keith lifts his chin before nodding quickly. “Yeah, for sure. I mean, they have as much chemistry off screen as they do on screen. Have you seen their video reading thirst tweets? They’re definitely into each other at least.”

“Wait, they posted that already?” Lance asks, immediately reaching for his phone on the coffee table. He opens YouTube and types ‘buzzfeed shiro’ in the search bar.

“Oh, uh,” Keith says. “I know someone who works at—”

“Oh my god, I have to watch this when I get home,” Lance says. The video was posted a mere five hours ago – Keith is really on top of things.

Maybe too on top of them. He was at work five hours ago.

Keith seems to sink in his seat. “Yeah, it’s a great video.”

They sit in silence then, watching 5 Seconds of Summer perform at the end of James Corden. Lance feels more giddy than usual, for some reason. Maybe it’s Keith’s apology still ringing in his ears.

He actually cares whether or not he upsets Lance, which is new.

“Man, my 8 a.m. is going to suck tomorrow,” Lance laughs through a yawn on his way out the door.

“You know, you could stay over sometimes when I’m working late,” Keith says, and Lance’s eyes widen. Keith then starts talking down to his shoes. “I mean, if that would be easier. I live close to LMU.”

Lance is tempted to just walk right back into Keith’s apartment, the butterflies in his stomach and his tired eyes nearly convincing him. But that would be weird, wouldn’t it? Keith is offering in future tense.

And he _just_ apologized. Lance doesn’t want to annoy him again already.

“Yeah, that’d be perfect,” he says. Something is still eating away at him, repeating in his head and pushing him to ask. “Are you sure you don’t work for Shiro?”

“I don’t work for Shiro,” Keith says easily, and this satisfies Lance enough to send him on his way.

 

**FRIDAY, APRIL 5**

 

But Lance still has his suspicions, and it only takes until Friday for them to be confirmed.

He sits around a table with his group in Narrative Film Production while other groups chatter away around them. They’re supposed to be discussing the final project and putting the final touches on a script that, for them, hardly exists yet.

It’s due in less than a month, and it’d be great if his group actually cared.

James is showing Rolo a video that, from the sounds of it, is most likely YouTube Poop from 2009. From across the room, Nadia shoots Lance a look of sympathy.

He rolls his eyes dramatically and not even a minute later, his phone buzzes in his hands.

 

 **Nadia Ritzavi** :

> you should ditch them and join our group

> Ina is one of those girls with three planners. We get stuff done over here

        

Lance looks up and meets eyes with her again before pouting.

 

**Lance:**

> if I could I really would :(((((

 

It’s half of a lie. If there’s one thing he _could_ actually do, it’s talk about the project himself until James and Rolo listen. They’re both good students and want to do well, just…lazy. But he’s not doing that.

Part of him doesn’t want to do any work at all. He’s meeting _Shiro_ in mere hours, and he couldn’t think about the project for very long if he tried.

The only other member of their group who does anything, Shay, is out sick today. So it’s smooth sailing for Lance, at least for the time being.

His phone buzzes in his hands again, but instead of Nadia, it’s a text from Keith. Lance clicks on it instantly.

 

**Keith:**

> [game pigeon]

> I won agaaaaain

 

**Lance:**

> I want a rematch

> IN REAL LIFE

 

**Keith:**

> I haven’t played pool irl either but I know I could beat you in that too

 

**Lance:**

> you say that now but just wait

 

**Keith:**

> [photo attachment]

> ok but look at my hair

 

Lance stares at his phone, eyebrows raised. He’s mostly staring at the photo Keith sent – an awkward selfie with his hair in French braids – and trying not to salivate.

He was correct. Keith does look amazing with his hair in braids, even in a selfie that makes it clear he has no idea how to take a selfie. Lance might even dare to say that he looks the best he’s ever seen him, all soft with the hair and a loose, red baseball tee.

And yet, curiosity gets the best of him. Lance can’t help but zoom in and look around the photo for some kind of clue that Keith works for Shiro. He’s just in his apartment though, his natural pout on his face with the messy table in the background.

 

**Lance:**

> wow

 

Keith starts typing immediately.

 

**Keith:**

> oh it’s weird huh

> sorry

> my boss’s stylist did it and idk

        

**Lance:**

> no!! omg

> that was a good wow

> it looks so good

> you have really nice hair

        

Lance drops his phone down on the table with a sigh, and James and Rolo gaze up at him strangely from their video. He shakes his head, tapping his foot.

He shouldn’t have said that. He should _not_ have said that. Keith was probably just being nice about the hot sauce and cupcakes, and after everything with the mail, Lance is just going to scare him off and—

 

**Keith:**

> oh

> thank you wow lmao

> I only just started using real shampoo

 

For some reason, Lance’s cheeks burn.

 

**Lance:**

> as opposed to what?

 

**Keith:**

> ….3-in-1

> you don’t have to lecture me I already know      

 

**Lance:**

> …I will keep my comments to myself

 

**Keith:**

> thank you

 

Lance finds himself smiling. He begins to type “can I braid your hair sometime,” but backspaces almost immediately. And then he types it again. Backspaces again.

And then he just decides, ‘fuck it.’

        

**Lance:**

> can I braid your hair sometime

 

Okay, not exactly ‘fuck it.’ Anxiety still exists, and he starts typing an explanation before the first message even goes through. His fingers move rapidly across screen.

 

> I braid my niece’s hair all the time when I’m home. Rachel taught me when we were younger!! I know all these cool types of braids there’s this thing called a waterfall braid and holy shit it looks so badass

 

As he types, he inevitably holds his breath, and he doesn’t let it out until Keith starts to type again.

 

**Keith:**

> hahah sure

> maybe when I come over for Kerberos tomorrow

 

Lance just stares, reading through the message over and over. _Maybe when I come over for Kerberos tomorrow._ Is this some kind of a joke the universe is pulling on him?

Braiding your friend’s hair is kind of gay, and Keith just went ahead and was not only like ‘Yeah, sure,’ he was like ‘Yeah, sure. How about tomorrow when I come over to watch your favorite show with you?’

Holy Shit. _No mames._ Lance has to remind himself to breathe.

 

Lance:

> sounds good!

 

That text in no way shows how Lance is really feeling, and he’s proud of it. Keith sends a smiley face, and Lance is tempted to continue the conversation somehow. But he doesn’t want to jinx it.

He could still irritate Keith, actually. He knows he could.

So instead, he pulls open his Curious Cat to distract himself until the end of class. He rests his arms on the table and lies his head down as James and Rolo burst out laughing at yet another video.

 

_Anonymous asked: you haven’t been tweeting like at all lol do you think you’re too good for kerb twit now that Shiro follows you and liked your selfie_

_I’ve been working two jobs for the past two weeks and I’m in school lmao calm down,_ he types.

He locks his phone, letting it land on the table with a thunk, and closes his eyes. Maybe he’ll just take a nap instead.

 

By the time Lance gets to Keith’s apartment, he’s absolutely buzzing with energy. So much so that he feels like he might throw up.

He’s going to meet Shiro in an hour, which he still can’t believe. Even with the ticket to the ASPCA event freshly printed from the LMU library, he can’t quite comprehend that Takashi Shirogane, the man that has filled the past three years of his life with joy, is going to be right in front of him.

Not only that, he’s going to hang out with Keith tomorrow. Like, actually hang out, outside of this apartment, and not as an afterthought. They have plans. And he’s going to braid Keith’s hair.

As Lance thinks about this, distractedly chasing Kosmo throughout the apartment with his harness, a whole new wave of nausea hits him. What if Keith finally realizes that Lance is Too Much? They’re watching _Kerberos_ , and it’s only a single day after Lance meets Shiro.

Keith is going to see how excited Lance can get, and he’s not even going to want to be Lance’s _friend_ after that.

Lance has to keep his cool. He can’t embarrass himself. He can’t ruin his chances with Keith, and he’s surprised he hasn’t already.

Once he finally secures Kosmo’s harness, he decides to just grab his ticket and walk Kosmo to the event. All of this anxiety is bubbling in his gut, and having Kosmo there will keep him grounded. Or at least he hopes.

His stomach continues to do flips as Kosmo tugs him down the stairs and out into the apartment’s parking lot. He seems to know exactly where he’s going, even before Lance puts Bluff Creek Dog Park into his phone.

Kosmo’s tugging more than usual today, actually. So much so that he coughs every few minutes from pulling on his harness too tight.

“Kosmo, calm down,” Lance says, shortening the leash as Kosmo darts after a bird. He’s trying not to let his brain spiral into the thought of Kosmo going crazy over the dogs at the event and embarrassing him in front of Shiro, which Kosmo was supposed to help him avoid.

Even if Shiro isn’t the one Keith works for, he probably knows Keith’s boss. So not only could Shiro hate Lance after this, but he could tell Keith’s boss about it, who could tell Keith, who could also hate Lance. And fire him. And never speak to him again or let him braid his hair.  

Okay so maybe he’s spiraling a little bit.

The line to the event wraps around the parking lot twice, and Lance feels his stomach sink yet again. He bought a ticket, so they have to let him in, right?

They have to let him meet Shiro, even though he’s bound to embarrass himself. Lance checks his phone and lets out a breath of relief. It hasn’t even started yet.

At least Kosmo is sitting nicely now, letting the girls at the back of the line pet him as he pants in the sun.

“Oh my god, he is so cute,” one of the girls says.

Kosmo opens his mouth wider, practically smiling as he sniffs at the air.

“You go to LMU, don’t you?” She’s knelt down by Kosmo, still petting his head, and she looks up at Lance with her eyes masked by heart-shaped sunglasses. “You look familiar.”

“Um, yeah,” Lance says, reaching down to pet Kosmo himself. “I’m a film major.”

She stands then, and Kosmo immediately jumps up on her for more pets. She obliges of course, but her attention is now on Lance. “That makes sense. I’m media studies, so we probably had a class together.” She holds out her hand. “I’m Molly.”

Lance shakes her hand with a smile. There’s something in her voice that makes Lance think she might be flirting, but he keeps all of his pickup lines to himself. He can’t exactly cheat on his non-boyfriend, Keith.

“Lance,” he says simply instead. “Did you hear about this on KXLU?”

“We were the ones who talked about it on KXLU,” her friend laughs.

Lances eyebrows shoot up, glancing between her and Molly. “Oh man, sorry. I didn’t—.”

“No, it’s fine, really,” Molly says, and Lance sees her glare at her friend for the briefest of milliseconds. Normally, this would fuel Lance’s ego, but it’s only making him want to text Keith. “So, you’re here for Shiro, then?”

Lance gestures around at the line with his free hand. “Who isn’t?”

Molly’s friend, named Erica, softens up to Lance once they start talking about Shiro. It becomes a conversation between the three of them and manages to calm Lance down a bit.

By the time he gets to the front of the line and hands his ticket to the woman scanning them, he’s nearly forgotten everything that’s worried him.

That is until he gets past the gates and Kosmo bolts, tugging Lance’s arm almost out of its socket.

He runs so fast that Lance trips and goes tumbling over. So fast that he pulls the leash out of Lance’s hands and starts zipping through the crowd. For a minute, Lance just sits there on his knees and lets his hands sting, watching as Kosmo disappears.

He can feel his heartbeat in his ears. Oh, Keith is so going to hate him if he loses _his dog._

 _Okay, okay,_ he thinks, standing, _at least it’s fenced in._ At least there’s a ton of people here that are skilled with animals. And maybe Keith is somehow here without telling him and Kosmo’s heading toward him, or at least toward someone who won’t think Kosmo is one of the shelter dogs and put him up for adoption.

Lance ultimately starts running, weaving around people the way Kosmo did, but he can’t exactly be sure he’s going the same way. For all he knows, Kosmo turned left where he turns right.

There are way too many tents, way too many sponsors trying to sell products to people who are only interested in Takashi Shirogane.

And oh god, Shiro’s here. What if the first time he sees Lance, Lance is chasing after Kosmo? That would be more embarrassing than anything his brain came up with an hour ago.

But then he sees Kosmo’s fluffy tail, and he’s relieved for all of a second. Until he loses him again. Then he starts to think about how Keith will react when he calls him and tells him, “Hey Keith, uh, I lost Kosmo.”

He will most definitely yell. It’ll be worse than just an unusual punctuation mark in a text or a “Well don’t,” for sure. So Lance keeps running, apologizing to anyone and everyone there is to apologize to as he shoves past them.

Eventually, he catches sight of Kosmo again, rushing right into a random tent. Lance pushes off the ground to get there before Kosmo sniffs out whatever’s inside the tent and gets the chance to bolt again.

“Kosmo, you can’t do that!” Lance whines, just as a familiar voice says, “Sorry, I’m not meeting anyone yet.”

Lance’s eyes trail up slowly from the dog, who is now very calmly sitting at the owner of the voice’s feet. He suddenly is extremely aware of the sweat coating his forehead and the way his left shoe is untied.

Because who else would it be besides Shiro? Takashi Shirogane, standing right in front of him in his usual black t-shirt and jeans, looking at him as though he might call security if Lance doesn’t say something soon.

“S-sorry,” Lance stammers. “The dog—Kosmo just tore the leash out of my hands, and he—well, he ran.”

Shiro’s eyes flash in recognition. Holy shit, it’s _Shiro_. Lance is talking to  _the_ Takashi Shirogane. His mouth dries up as he tries to figure out what else to say.

“Oh shit, sorry! You must be Lance,” he laughs. It’s Shiro, and he knows Lance’s name. He tries to wipe the utter look of shock off of his face as Shiro reaches out to shake his hand.

“Yes!” Lance blurts out, eyes blinking way too fast for his liking. At least Keith isn’t here to see this, because he doesn’t think he could contain his excitement now if he tried. “Thank you so much for at least trying to Skype with me and my friends. I hope I didn’t bother you too much.”

Shiro’s smile falls a little bit, but he keeps shaking Lance’s hand. “You’re Keith’s dog sitter, right?”

“Oh! Yeah!” Lance nods. But then it hits him. “Wait, you actually know Keith?”

Shiro drops his hand, and Lance is tempted to hug him, but he holds himself back. Especially because Shiro has the most confused look on his face.

“He’s my assistant,” Shiro says slowly. “He mentioned you were—Did he not tell you that?”

This is so much to take in that Lance barely hears what Shiro says. He knew it. He _knew_ it. Shiro is standing right in front of him, and he is Keith’s boss. Keith knows Shiro, who is _standing right in front of him,_ and Lance knows Keith. His brain is short circuiting.

“He didn’t,” Lance says quickly, and he starts to ramble. “But I’m also—Well, my username on Twitter is thesoftshiro. I shouldn’t have expected you to recognize me. I’m sure you DM a lot of fans. I just thought—Well, you’ve helped me a lot this past month! And for as long as I’ve known who you are. So…thank you.”

Lance watches as the gears turn in Shiro’s head yet again as Shiro tries to remember him among the hundreds of fans he must have DM’d this past month. He tries not to feel too disappointed since Shiro is right there, in the flesh.

“Lance,” Shiro finally says, pointing at him in recognition. Then _he_ actually goes in to hug _Lance._ “Glad you’re doing well, man.”

He smiles into Shiro’s shoulder, feeling his eyes well up with tears. This is, quite frankly, all he’s wanted to do for the past three years. Aside from sit and have tea with Shiro while talking about the meaning of life, but that is probably never going to happen.

This is happening right now, though, and he might cry.

But he can’t cry. He’s already made himself look like a crazy fan, running into this tent and thanking Shiro for DM conversations he barely remembers, and he will probably have to see Shiro in the future if he doesn’t completely ruin things with Keith.

Oh my god, he’s going to see Shiro again.

He holds his tears back as the two break from the safety of the hug, taking in a deep breath. “As you can see, I got a new job,” he says, gesturing to Kosmo. “Sunday’s my last day at the bar.” 

He wills his bottom lip to stop quivering.

“Right,” Shiro laughs. “That’s great!”

Lance clears his throat, which is also going raw with the threat of tears. He smiles wide, racking his brain for something else to say. But all he really wants to do is say thank you a million times, tell Shiro exactly how he’s helped him. He played it cool so much in the DMs, he doesn’t think he ever properly thanked Shiro.

But that would make him cry for sure.

Instead, he just says, “Um, do you know where Keith is?”

 

-

 

The day has been calm enough for Keith, especially since Shiro asked him to help the ASPCA staff instead of dealing with the chaos that will be the meet and greet. He’s just been taking care of the dogs, making sure they’re fed and hydrated and that no one dognaps them.

Before this, he didn’t have anything to do on set, so Coran braided his hair again, and he actually worked up the courage to send Lance a photo of it.

And _that_ worked out a lot better than he thought it would. Chills trail up his spine as he imagines what it’ll feel like for Lance to run his fingers through his hair.

The Pitbull puppy he’s holding, Lola, tilts her head at him as Keith grins down at his feet. “Shut up,” Keith says.

If he had a crush on Lance before, this is something else entirely. Lola, probably angry that he told her to shut up, starts to nibble at his braid. He pushes it off of his shoulder and holds her in front of him.

“Do not tamper with the merchandise,” he tells her. “It needs to be soft tomorrow when—wait, you’re the merchandise today, aren’t you?”

Lola just stares at him, not nearly as communicative as Kosmo. He kneels down in front of her cage to put her back inside, and she starts whining before her little feet even touch the grass.

“I’m sorry,” he pouts, shutting the cage door. “I hope you get adopted.”

As he moves on to take a Boxer/Pitbull mix out of its cage for a group of girls to hold, he realizes he’s not having too bad of a day. It’s probably the best day he’s had in a while, really.

That is until he turns and sees Lance sauntering into the tent, glancing around for what Keith’s sure is him. His stomach falls all the way into his feet. He’s never been so unhappy to see Lance’s bright eyes and broad shoulders.

He should have known he would be here. He should’ve figured Lance would use his new disposable income to pay for a ticket to meet Shiro.

“Keith!” Lance exclaims when he finally spots him, and Kosmo pulls him right to him. Lance doesn’t let Keith get a single word out before he says, “I knew it!”

“What?” Keith asks. He tries to simultaneously pet Kosmo and get the dog off of him so that he can think better.

This can still be fine. Shiro hasn’t met anyone yet, so if he can just get to him before the meet and greet and tell him about Lance, this doesn’t have to be a disaster. He can maybe even continue to keep his job a secret from Lance if he’s able to lie well enough.

“You work for—” Lance starts, but soon lowers his voice. “You work for Shiro.”

“Uh, no I don’t,” Keith says. He hopes the lie isn’t as obvious to Lance as it is to him. “I just volunteer for ASPCA.”

He points to his t-shirt, grateful they gave him one before he started helping.

“Stop lying, Keith,” Lance laughs. If he weren’t the cutest person alive, Keith would want to punch him in the face. _Just believe me, please._ “I just talked to Shiro. Kosmo pulled me right to him.”

Keith closes his eyes. Well, there goes that.

“Well, okay that’s a lie, too,” Lance says. Keith opens his eyes back up to see him talking animatedly, moving his arms around every which way. “He pulled the leash out of my hand and I chased him, but he led me to Shiro’s tent. And I found him, and he’s fine. I mean, obviously. ‘Cuz he’s here with me.”

Maybe if Keith’s lucky, Lance didn’t bring up the DMs to Shiro at all. Maybe he was so caught off guard by the fact that Shiro was Keith’s boss, so entranced by seeing Shiro, that he was rendered speechless.

Lance clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck. “So how has your day been?”

Keith snaps his head up. “What?”

If Lance is testing him, he’s going to lose. That’s one of the very first things he asked Shiro in the DMs, but it’s such a normal question at the same time. It leaves Keith feeling flustered for a variety of reasons.

“Did you have a good day?” Lance asks, and then his voice gets small as he glances around, “Working for Shiro?”

Keith tries to breathe easily. It’s not a test, or at least it doesn’t seem like one. At the very least, it doesn’t seem like Lance knows about Keith being behind the DMs, so maybe he really _did_ forget to bring it up.

“Uh, yeah,” Keith smiles, “It’s been—It’s been okay.”

He starts to walk, distracting himself by weaving around the cages and checking if any of the dogs have poop to pick up, and Lance follows him. He tugs on one of Keith’s braids, sending more shivers up Keith’s spine.

“They look even cooler in person,” Lance says.

“Thanks,” Keith says, turning his head to hide his smile in his shoulder. “What even is a waterfall braid, by the way?”

“Only the coolest braid in existence,” he says. When Keith turns to grin at him, Lance is holding his phone out to him with a photo of the braid up on the screen.

“You think my hair will do that?”

“Think?” Lance scoffs. “I know it will. At least as long as I’m braiding it.”

“I trust you,” Keith says. They come back around and stop in front of Lola’s cage, and Lance gives Keith such a soft smile he has to look away. “Want to hold any of the dogs?”

“Lola’s cute,” he says, lifting his chin in her direction. Keith feels his eyes on him as he leans down to take her back out of the cage, and he absentmindedly runs his free hand over his braids.

“She kept biting my hair,” he tells him as Lance swaps out Kosmo’s leash for Lola. Kosmo immediately jumps up in an attempt to play with the puppy, and Keith has to pull him back.

He would 100% forget he’s no longer a puppy and probably maim Lola in two seconds if they tried to play.

“I take it back then. She’s not cute,” Lance says, then his voice shifts into a baby voice that Keith always thought he’d find annoying. Apparently, it’s nothing but endearing coming from Lance’s mouth. “You can’t eat people’s hair! I know it looks like a toy but it’s very important.”  

Lance’s cheeks are tinted red as he lets Lola lick his scrunched-up nose. No one as cute as Lance should be allowed to hold a puppy. It was hard enough seeing him curled up on the couch with Kosmo the other night.

And then Keith’s eyes settle on Lance’s lips, and he begins a dangerous thought process. He wants to kiss Lance. Realistically, he could grab him and kiss him right now, let Lola jump out of Lance’s hands and have another ASPCA volunteer get ahold of her.

What are the odds that Lance will never mention the DMs to Shiro? That they will go forever unspoken about? What are the odds that he could tell Lance right now that every time he talks to him, he feels something he can’t quite understand, something he’s never felt before and everything will end up just fine?

Keith’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and the answer lies right in the message on his screen.

 

**Boss Baby:**

> when we get home, you’re going to explain this to me.

> [photo attachment]

> what the fuck, Keith?

 

Keith forgets any good feeling he was experiencing in that moment. He barely looks at the photo before he loses the ability to breathe – it’s a screenshot of his DMs with Lance and the odds are certainly not in his favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's be friends!  
> [TWITTER](http://www.twitter.com/stephclaires)  
> [ART INSTA](http://www.instagram.com/literatidraws)  
> 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the solution to one secret paves the way to another being revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I'm gonna thank everyone individually but I want to say thanks for the concern in regards to last chapter's notes. I recently finished weaning off of my antidepressant and for a period after being off of it, the withdrawal can cause an increase in suicidal thoughts which definitely happened. I mean, I cried listening to the Bring It On musical so. 
> 
> But I'm okay! I spent this week just trying to regather myself and I'm slowly starting to feel like myself again after months of feeling detached because of that medication. I'm hoping that also means more writing :D

**FRIDAY, APRIL 5**

 

Anxiety twists itself around Keith’s lungs and squeezes, tight and strong. He sits alone at his kitchen table with his knee bopping up and down and fingers tapping against the wood. Shiro had a meeting after the ASPCA event, and this is all Keith has been doing for the last hour.

Even still, as he lets out a strangled breath, the image of a bright-eyed Lance keeps appearing in his mind’s eye. His crush is fighting its way to the surface despite the circumstances, poking at his brain and reminding him, “Hey, I exist and I’m as intense as ever!”

Lance had only just met Shiro – his _role model_ , the man he has loved for years – when he found Keith today, and he was somehow more concerned with how _Keith’s_ day went, with _Keith’s_ braids and how _Keith_ may reign champion at 8ball but Lance could probably beat him at cup pong. Not once did he seem concerned with what a direct connection to Shiro could do for him.

Lance doesn’t have a single selfish bone in his gorgeous, heaven-sent body, and it’s really thrown Keith off.

He probably would have even replied if Keith had messaged him on his own Twitter account. Keith didn’t have to do all this. He didn’t have to get into this awful mess that’s about to play out the second Shiro arrives.

Keith tries to shake the thought away. He couldn’t have known that when Lance was merely a picture on his phone. Lance is a single outlier in the millions of intense Shiro fans that wouldn’t give Keith the time of day. The reality of it is that, even with Lance being as nice as he is, Keith still doesn’t measure up against Takashi Shirogane.

The knock on his door completely startles thoughts of Lance from his brain. Shiro’s heavy rapping is so loud it echoes through the entire apartment and makes Kosmo jerk his head up, ears perked. Shiro lets himself in and Keith jumps from his seat.

The dog slips down from the couch to greet Shiro, paws pattering happily against the floor. But Shiro’s anger is so palpable that Kosmo slinks back when he gets close enough. He lies down in that very spot and looks up warily, eyes flicking to Keith for support.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Shiro bellows the second the door clicks shut.

His undereye concealer from this morning’s shoot has worn off, and his dark circles are clear among his increasingly reddening features. The long-anticipated guilt over giving Shiro yet another thing to worry about shoots through Keith’s gut.

“Listen, I—”

“No,” Shiro says, holding up his pointer finger. “I have to say something first because this is—this is just—”

He starts to pace, fist over the tight line of his mouth and widened eyes intent on his moving feet. Eventually, he takes a seat at the table, and Keith lowers himself down slowly beside him. Keith clasps his hands together and digs his nails in between the knuckles of his opposite hand, but it does nothing to ground him. He’s never seen Shiro this upset, at least not toward him, and his mind is racing so fast he can’t even catch a thought now.

“Do you realize how insanely _lucky_ you are that he hasn’t tweeted all of these DMs?”

Keith nods, more than once so Shiro doesn’t miss it. Shiro bounces his own knee beneath the table, sucking in a long breath as he pulls his phone from his pocket.

He opens Twitter and brings up the DM thread with Lance that Keith has seen far too many times now. It’s weird to see him with it open, most likely the way Lance imagined it all along.

“I mean Jesus Christ, Keith,” his eyes dart back and forth as he scrolls, reading through the messages. “’I like talking to you.’ ‘It was a good selfie.’ What the hell is that?”  

“I was drunk—”

Shiro’s drops his phone on the table and looks at Keith. “You were drunk the entire month you talked to him?”

Keith bows his head, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opens them, Shiro just looks angrier. “Okay, I was the first time. It was an accident.”

He hates this. He hates feeling like a child being scolded for something any logical adult would know not to do. He can almost sense a “you’re grounded” coming on.

He should know better, he should know better, he should know better. He _should have_ known better.

If he had even an ounce of self-esteem, if he had just forgotten about it and waited a few weeks, he wouldn’t be sitting here like this right now. He would have hired Lance to dog sit under honest terms and quickly found out he doesn’t think Keith is as awful and Keith thinks he is.

Or as Keith knows he is, now. He knocks his fist against the table a few times, already tempted to hit something.

“Let me get this straight,” Shiro says. “It was an accident, and then you decided to flirt _daily_ on my behalf?”

“I wasn’t flirting,” Keith insists. “I just wanted to talk to him.”

“As me.”

“I didn’t think he’d talk to me, okay? Not when he loves you so much,” he says, but it sounds stupid when he hears it out loud, especially with how shrill his voice gets. “I’m sorry.”

Shiro closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose. He breathes out another deep sigh and says, “I just can’t wrap my head around how you could have possibly thought this was a good thing to do.”

“I really tried not to flirt,” Keith repeats.

“That doesn’t make it okay!” Shiro bursts, open palm hitting the table. His phone leaps a half an inch into the air and clatters back down.  

Keith realizes now that he’s trembling. Shiro wouldn’t hurt him, he knows that. But he looks at all of Shiro’s unread mail on his table, remembers every time he forgot to do something, and he knows that he’s going to be fired any minute now. Shiro won’t want him anywhere near him or his Twitter.

Shiro lowers his shoulders and leans forward in his seat, gripping the sides of the chair.

“I cannot express to you enough how much the media would not give a shit that you – that _I_ – barely flirted,” he says, shaking his head. He’s gone from looking furious to exhausted. “They’d still spin it to make me look like that predatory gay celebrity. I mean you sent him my selfies, you _Skyped_ with him. How in the hell did you think _that_ was going to work out, by the way?”

“I was—” Keith clamps his mouth shut. He doesn’t even have to say it this time to realize how stupid it is. “I agreed to it because I thought I could tell him that truth that way.”

“Well thank fuck you didn’t,” Shiro says. “Because _US_ fucking _Weekly_ thinking I let my best friend manipulate fans would’ve been worse than them thinking it was me talking to him.”

Not assistant. Best friend. That makes the whole thing hit ten times harder. Keith wants nothing more than to rewind and stop this. But he can’t. He can’t, and he’s stuck here digging his nails into his palm and trying to calm down.  

“I wasn’t manipulating him,” he says, voice soft. That statement has to be true. He doesn’t want to think one choice could have been so awful for the only two people he values at all.

One look from Shiro tells him he’s wrong.

“You were pretending to be me to get him to talk to you,” Shiro says bitterly. “That’s manipulation.”

“Okay, you’re right, but—”

“This could affect my _whole career_ ,” Shiro says. “You’re not just some random dude posing as me! You’re my friend and my assistant. This is going to affect me just as much as you if Lance finds out, and I can’t believe you didn’t stop for a second to consider that.”

“I’m sorry,” Keith says again. “But I haven’t DM’d him since he started working for me. He’s not—It’s going to be fine.”

“You DM’d him,” Shiro starts, picking his phone up and unlocking it a huff to check, “a week ago.”

“He was sad you weren’t answering him, so I just—”

“I don’t care,” Shiro stands, pocketing his phone and crossing his arms. “Like, sorry. I just don’t. This is ridiculous, Keith. You’ve messed up so _fucking_ much in the time that I’ve known you and I still never thought you’d do something as stupid as this.”

Keith stands too, not keen on Shiro looking down on him now or ever. He grits his teeth, and he can feel his anxiety and frustration winding up, a jack in the box ready to explode any second now.

“If you’re going to fire me, just do it already,” he says. “I knew you’d hate me sooner or later.”

For a second, Shiro softens. In that one moment, he’s the guy who sat beside him in silence and let Keith be angry whenever someone reprimanded him. The one who helped him _stop_ messing up. The friend Keith’s taken for granted.

And then his eyes narrow again.

“Don’t be dramatic,” he says. “I’m irritated and I’m taking back control of my Twitter and Instagram, but I don’t want you _gone from my life_.”

“Yeah, well,” Keith starts, crossing his own arms about his chest, but he never finishes. The thought just trails off, out of Keith’s brain and into the air somewhere.

Shiro’s still tense, pissed. Keith’s already said sorry, already tried to explain himself to no avail. He doesn’t know what else he can do to fix this, which only serves to rile him up more.

“I still don’t think you get how much this could royally fuck up my career.”

“ _I get it,_ ” Keith grunts, and Shiro sighs.

“Take the rest of today and tomorrow off while I figure out what the hell I’m going to do about this,” he says, turning to leave with a wave that looks more like he’s swatting Keith away. “And don’t even log on to my Twitter, I swear to God.”

Keith expects him to slam the door shut behind him, but Shiro barely shuts it at all. It falls lightly against the doorframe and Keith has to push it closed himself.

In his pocket, his phone buzzes with what he knows is a text from Lance. He hopes it’s him finally asking when they can hang out with Shiro, or if Keith could get Shiro to write out a tattoo for him or something. Something to prove, even if only slightly, that Keith had a reason for doing all of this.

Instead, it’s just a Game Pigeon message, Lance starting a game of cup pong.

 

**Lance:**

> lets go mullet :)

> three years of beer pong at house parties have prepared me for this very moment

 

Keith doesn’t respond. Instead, he chucks his phone down the hallway and watches it bounce a few times before settling into the carpet. He’ll let it stay there for hours; he doesn’t care. It’s not like anyone else will be texting him.

But as those hours pass without Lance or Shiro, with only his own stupid mind to keep him company, he becomes antsy. Going through Shiro’s mail takes mere minutes, and cleaning the apartment takes a while but not long enough. He tries to draw, but every lopsided shape makes him want to throw his sketchbook down the hall too.

Today’s initial plan was to accompany Shiro to a business dinner with the executives of the CW, just to make sure he got there, and then go shopping for the watch party tomorrow. Somewhere within his phone, still face down on the carpet, there’s a text with a list of things to get.

But he knows Shiro told him to take time off not only because Shiro didn’t want to see his face for a few days, but because he didn’t want Keith to do anything he could possibly fuck up right now.

So he falls onto the couch, wishing the soft cushions would just swallow him whole already.

He could binge the first season of _Kerberos_ before going over Lance’s tomorrow, but he doesn’t have to pretend to be a fan anymore. He doesn’t have to know every detail or pretend to gush over Shiro. He just has to be himself, which he’d rather not be right now.

He gets back up and puts the photo strip from Coran’s wedding and the _Kerberos_ cast and crew photo back up onto the fridge, then moves to his room to pull all of the hand-me-downs out from under his bed.

And then there’s nothing left to do.

The sun goes down and he pops in a _Twilight Zone_ DVD. Not even two minutes into the first episode, he feels wrong. Dirty, even. He shouldn’t be watching his favorite TV show when he should be _thinking about what he’s done._

So he puts himself in a time out, forces himself to just sit on the couch with Kosmo and stare at the wall. His eyes well up soon enough, and he buries his face in Kosmo’s back, matting his fur down with tears.

 

**SATURDAY, APRIL 6**

 

Kosmo is the perfect subject for an early-morning drawing in Keith’s sketchbook. He’s in front of Keith, curled up in bed, and he has nothing to do with Lance or Shiro like the _Kerberos_ set studies on every other page do. Keith sits up in bed, grabs a random pencil, and begins sketching.

And yet, the more he looks at the dog, the more he realizes Kosmo has everything to do with Shiro and Lance. All Keith can think about is Kosmo curled up this very same way at Lance’s feet not even a week ago. Then, the PowerPoint of images in his brain slides to Kosmo curled up in Shiro’s lap the day they got him, a gift to help Keith feel less alone in L.A.

The two trusted him, wanted him in their lives and wanted to be in his life just as much. And he couldn’t just believe that; he had to go and ruin everything.

Keith groans, snapping his sketchbook shut and putting it on his bedside table. He slept, but not well, and his head pounds and to add insult to injury, he burns his tongue on his coffee.

It isn’t until now that he picks his phone up off the hallway carpet, and even then, he only texts Lance back to tell him he doesn’t have to come over today. He wants him to. He wants desperately to curl up in the fetal position and cry in Lance’s lap, but then he’d have to explain himself, which would only make two people mad at him instead of one.

He knows he’s going to have to talk to Lance more before tonight – he doesn’t want to ghost him on top of catfishing him. But until then, he’s going to use the next few hours to come to accept that he’ll never be able to have the relationship he wants with Lance unless he wants to keep this secret from him forever.

He’s on his fourth ibuprofen of the day when he realizes that this was his hole-filled plan all along. Maybe some part of him hoped he could tell Lance the truth about the DMs and everything would work out, but he never would’ve gotten the courage to do it. He was always going to sit in agony as Lance’s friend, always keeping a safe distance so a secret like that wouldn’t eat away at him completely.

But now that Shiro knows, now that Keith fully understands what this could do to his friend’s career if it were to ever get out, keeping Lance at arm’s length (if not miles away) and the secret hidden is his only option.

He’s on his sixth and final ibuprofen, head still hammering, when he gets a text from Shiro.

 

**Boss Baby:**

> I want to kill you a little less today

> Come on over. Adam got donuts and we’ve figured out what we’re going to do about this situation

 

_Situation_. _Adam._ Keith hates everything about this. Not only will he have to deal with Shiro’s wrath yet again, he’s going to have Shiro’s secret boyfriend judging him as well. He can already imagine the look on Adam’s face as he peers at him over the rims of his glasses.

But if they’re going to tell him how to fix this, he has to deal with it. He’s the one who got himself in trouble in the first place, and any look Adam gives him will have been rightfully earned.

He trudges down the hallway, and for the first time in years, he knocks on Shiro’s door before entering. Shiro calls that it’s open, the tone of his voice unreadable, and Keith braces himself before entering.

Considering everything going on, Shiro and Adam look way too domestic. Keith was expecting them to both be sitting on the couch with their hands folded in their laps, eyes burning with hatred as they waited to lecture him.

Instead, Adam’s at the sink, washing the #1 Dad mug a fan gave Shiro, and Shiro’s sitting at the high-rise kitchen table, sipping coffee out of his own Captain America mug with a half-eaten donut in front of him.

He’s still in his pajamas despite it being one in the afternoon, one foot propped up on the chair. Adam yawns in jeans, his USC hoodie, and bare feet. They look like they just woke up.

Keith only begins to understand why this is when Shiro turns to give him a terse wave and he sees the massive hickey on the crook of Shiro’s neck. He can’t even cringe because he knows whatever irresponsible late-night hookup happened after the exec dinner was born from Shiro’s frustration and anxiety over a _situation_ Keith created.  

The countertops behind Adam are stocked with tortilla chips, Cheetos, Dr. Pepper, and a variety of alcohol for the party tonight, so at least Keith didn’t mess up there. He guesses they went after dinner, met whatever fans they had to meet, and then Shiro complained for a while before they defiled each other. Now there’s evidence and Keith is going to be responsible for not one but two things that could possibly ruin Shiro’s career.

“I’m not actually going to kill you,” Shiro says.

And they’re both looking at him, Adam leaning against the counter and Shiro with his elbows on the countertop, mug in hand. Keith is still standing in the doorway.

He takes a couple of slow steps forward. He wishes they’d just tell him whatever they need to tell him already, so he can do what he has to do to fix this.

Instead, Shiro gets up and smacks his hands on both of Keith’s cheeks. “You’re an idiot sandwich,” he says, half lovingly and half like he’d rather say something much worse, squeezing Keith’s face between his hands. “But you’re also my brother and I love you.”

He lets go of Keith’s face only to pull him into a hug, which Keith slowly returns. The hug is just as reluctant on Shiro’s part, arms loose around Keith’s shoulders in a way that tells him that he’s still mad, still frustrated. Everything is still teetering on the edge of _this needs to be fixed._

“Is this the part where you stab me?” Keith mumbles.

“No, I poisoned the donuts,” Shiro says, breaking away to slide the box off of the counter and hold it out to Keith. “Have one.”

“I’ll pass.”

The three gather in the living room, and Keith is still the admonished child. This time, though, it’s a family meeting, where his parents have to brainstorm ways to clean up the kid’s mess. All while the child is present and guilty.

No one is speaking, each one waiting for someone else to say what has to happen. If Shiro isn’t firing Keith, there’s seemingly only one real option here: cut off all contact with Lance. Fire him, delete his number, start over. And _he’s_ not about to say it.

“I mean, I’ll just get to it,” Shiro says. He’s just as Keith expected him to be when he walked in: hands clasped together, leaning forward with his chin resting in them. “You have to invite Lance to the watch party tonight.”

Or that. Keith leans forward, breathless, like Shiro just sucker punched him.

“What?” is all he can think to say. He sputters, blinking and blinking, shaking his head. “I mean, is that a good idea? He’s a fan.”

Adam has his legs curled up under him on the couch, and he leans against Shiro. Keith can see a few smaller marks on his own neck. “According to your DMs, they’re best friends.”

Shiro turns to give him a look, and he just shrugs. They have a brief, silent conversation. _I already tore him a new one yesterday,_ from Shiro. _Yeah, well it’s my turn,_ from Adam.

“Point being, it’s realistic for me to invite him now,” Shiro says. “At least so he doesn’t question anything. But you’re telling him, he’ll be your guest, just so I don’t incriminate myself in his DMs more than you already have.”  

“I still don’t—” Keith looks between the both of them. “I mean, I still don’t understand. I’m supposed to go over his place tonight.”

“I guess it just feels like the right thing to do, to talk to him myself and give him something like this,” Shiro says. “It’s shitty to me that he thought he was talking to me this whole time and he wasn’t.”

“But what about the whole favoring fans thing?”

Truthfully, he doesn’t want Lance to come to this party tonight because he doesn’t want to have to fight for his attention. Maybe that’s why it doesn’t seem like so much of a solution.

Yeah, he has to keep a safe distance, but that’s only metaphorical. He can still be Lance’s friend, still feed his own touch-starved body in platonic ways while fulfilling pre-made plans to watch _Kerberos_. If Lance has the entire cast of _Kerberos_ surrounding him for real, he’s never going to braid Keith’s hair and that makes Keith want to throw up.

“Like I said, he’ll be your guest. If he tells anyone about it, you’ll be the one who invited him,” Shiro says. “I’ll just talk to him a bit, so he has no reason to think it wasn’t me, and so I feel less shitty that he thought he was talking to me this whole time.”

“We thought through it all this morning,” Adam adds, sitting back up. “It’ll just be this once. He’s not going to start inviting him to set or anything.”

“After tonight, we’ll go back to normal.”

“I mean—” Keith starts. “Okay, I guess.”

He can’t exactly say no to their solution when it’s he who caused the problem. If it’s just for tonight, he supposes he can deal with sharing Lance’s attention. He can go over Lance’s to watch _Kerberos_ and have his hair braided into a waterfall next week.

And everything will be as normal and unromantic as it will ever be.

“Great,” Shiro claps once, jumping up out of his seat. He takes his wallet out and flips it open, handing Keith his credit card. “Now, I need you to go to the store and get concealer, so we can cover up what I’m sure you’ve already noticed.”

“And before you say it,” Adam adds, expressionless, “we’ve already tried the spoon thing.”

 

-

 

Lance stands on his bed, slowly and carefully pulling a corner of his _Kerberos_ poster up from the wall. He teeters side to side, almost losing his balance as Rachel sits on the other side of the room, watching him.

“Remind me why you’re doing this again?” she asks.

“Because I’m pretty sure Keith is going to fire me,” he says, and finally the sticky tack comes off the wall. He side-steps to start working on the next corner. When Rachel doesn’t say anything, he supplies, “Now that I know he knows Shiro.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you’re taking your poster down.”

The top of the poster folds over, and Lance plops down to just as carefully detach the bottom. He’s yet to tear or wrinkle it, but getting the sticky tack off to roll the poster up will be a much different story.

“I can’t look like I like Shiro as much as I do,” he says. “Like, Keith can’t think I’m going to use him or ask him to tell me Shiro’s secrets or anything like that.”

“But you’re not,” Rachel says. “At this point, you talk about Keith more than you talk about Shiro. Maybe you should put up a poster of him.”

“Let’s not go that far,” he says, turning to give her a look. She gives her own in return, eyebrows raised and the corners of her mouth quirked up. “Okay, even if that’s true, he doesn’t know that. He didn’t play me back in cup pong and he told me not to come over today.”

Lance finally gets the poster off of the wall and lies it flat on his bed, studying it. He could attempt to roll it up with the sticky tack on, since he’s just going to be putting the poster back up in a few days anyway.

“Wait,” he stops. “What if he _does_ know and that’s why he is avoiding me at all costs?”

“Well, he’s still coming tonight, isn’t he?”

“I hope so,” Lance sighs, and Rachel gives him another look, this one with lips pursed and eyes narrowed. “Okay, yes. As far as I know.”

He’s been awake since seven cleaning the apartment, vacuuming and wiping down counters. He even dusted for the first time ever since moving in. He needs Keith to feel comfortable while he’s here, not to leave thinking Lance is a heathen. That might be worse than him knowing Lance likes him.  

He wasn’t going to hide anything at first, even when he started to worry that Keith would fire him. Keith knows he likes _Kerberos_ , after all.

But then he got too excited to see a text from Keith, only to find that it was him saying he didn’t need his help with Kosmo today. This made Lance’s fear of being fired much more of a reality. So, in a dizzy, anxious rush, he started tucking his _Kerberos_ POP! Dolls into drawers and taking the _Kerberos_ calendar down from over the fuse box.

Lance gets off his bed, deciding to slide the poster under there without rolling it up at all. He studies the wall, then, hands on his hips. Now there’s just a random blank space, but it’ll have to do.

He turns back to Rachel. “I still need your help coming up with a drink to make him while he’s here,” he says. “It has to be good.”

“Can’t you just make him an amaretto sour or whatever he got?”

“No,” Lance whines, “I want to show off my bartending skills.”

“Do, like, vanilla vodka and raspberry reduction.”

“So I would,” Lance says, “but how am I supposed to reduce a raspberry?”

“I’m not even going to try to answer that,” she says, and Lance sticks his tongue out at her.

On his desk, his laptop has a sticker of Shiro fan art on it, but that’s _fine,_ right? It’s just one sticker, and he’s not about to try to peel it off. Keith’s seen his laptop anyway.

He does a walk-through of the apartment, then, refolding blankets and fluffs up pillows again and glancing around to make sure there’s no other _Kerberos_ paraphernalia lying around. He covers Shiro’s _GQ_ issue on the coffee table with the biggest book he can find – Rachel’s copy of _Hamilton: The Revolution_ by Lin-Manuel Miranda.

That’s everything. There’s still several hours before Keith comes over, and all Lance has left to worry about is not embarrassing himself. Too bad that’s the biggest task of all.

“Uh, Lance,” Rachel calls from the room, the pitch of her voice getting higher the more she says, ”I think you’re in the clear.”

Lance shuffles down the hall, eyebrows coming together. When he pokes his head in, she has his phone in her hand, eyes wide.

“I’m going to change my passcode,” he says, scooting up next to her. It’s all he can do not to freak out over what exactly she’s talking about. The first thing that comes to mind is that Keith canceled, avoiding Lance completely.

Rachel doesn’t respond. She only hands him the phone, dropping it in his shaking hands. “He just invited you to a party at Shiro’s tonight.”

Lance couldn’t have possibly heard her right. But there it is on his screen, clear as day.

 

**Keith:**

> Shiro’s having a watch party at his apartment with the cast tonight… I know I was supposed to come over but now that you know I’m friends with him, do you want to come to that instead?

 

“Fuck,” Lance says. He squeals, kicking his legs out, and raises his voice. A _party_ at _Takashi Shirogane’s_ apartment. What kind of freaking dream is he having and what does he have to do to never wake up from it? “ _Fuck!_ ”

Rachel laughs. “Estás bien?”

“I’m freaking out here, Rach!” Lance gasps. “What do I say?”

“Uh,” she says. “Yes? Obviously.”

But Lance isn’t exactly on cloud nine. It’s more like cloud seven or eight. He’s still wary and he doesn’t want to ruining his chances with Keith just to hang out with Takashi Shirogane. This could be a test. Oh god, what if this is a test.

He starts typing, brow pinched.

 

**Lance:**

> we don’t have to

> I’m cool just hanging with you and your mullet

 

**Keith:**

> Really?

> You’re cool passing on hanging out with the entire cast? To hang out with me? A normie? Alone? Watching them on TV? When you could be hanging out with them, not normies, in real life?

> Just say yes Lance lmao

> (also would you quit it with the mullet thing already!!!)

 

**Lance:**

> okay I mean

> when you put it like that

> yeah, I’ll come to the party :D

> BUT I STILL WANT TO HANG OUT WITH YOU

> (also no I love your mullet)

 

**Keith:**

> cooooooool come to my apartment first and we’ll head over there

> (I love your non-mullet but you don’t see me calling you floppy hair)

 

**Lance:**

> please call me floppy hair

        

**Keith:**

> I’m not going to call you ‘floppy hair’ that’s so dumb

 

_Then call me baby,_ Lance thinks. Rachel’s still beside him, watching this conversation unfold. He doesn’t even try to hold back the smile on his face as he watches the typing bubble.

 

> your move, freckles.

 

His stomach flips. Just seconds later, a game pigeon message comes through. Finally, Keith has played him back in cup pong, and everything is totally fine. More than fine. Extra super great.

 

Except everything is _not_ extra super great. Because five hours later, he sits in the parking lot of Keith and Shiro’s apartment building with a chill shuddering throughout his entire body and a panic attack on its way.

He’s about to be in the same room as Keith _and_ Shiro _and_ Adam _and_ Romelle _AND_ everyone else he has ever looked up to.All at once. He’s going to embarrass himself, inevitably. He’s going to be Too Much like usual and never be invited anywhere with _any_ of them again.

He flips down his mirror and studies himself, tries not to glare at his reflection. His chinos and pink button up shirt with palm trees on it, which was one of seven outfits he had picked out for this occasion, is starting to look a lot more obnoxious than it did when he left.

“I can’t be too much for the right people,” he repeats Shiro’s words, however uncertain, and flips the mirror back up.

He decides to open Twitter. He just needs a few more minutes before he can catch his breath and brace himself for this party. Of course he wants to meet the cast, but hanging out with Keith would have been a hell of a lot easier.

 

**Lance (@thesoftshiro):** you guys will never guess where I am right now like…………

 

One of these days, he really needs to make a finsta or private Twitter so he can tell all of this to people who aren’t going to harass him. For now, he makes a group text with Matt, Rachel, Pidge, and Hunk.

 

**Lance:**

> guys im sitting in the parking lot about to go to a freaking PARTY at freaking TAKASHI SHIRO GANE’s FUCKING aPARTMENT and I am about to shit my pants

 

**Pidge:**

> WAIT WHAT

> yesterday you find out you know his assistant which was crazy enough but ????

 

**Hunkules:**

> whoa lance

> don’t drink too much or anything

 

**Pidge:**

> yeah don’t embarrass yourself in front of SHIRO

 

**Matt:**

> before you know it you’re gonna be friends with all of Hollywood’s elite and forget us small folks :’(

 

**Lance:**

> yeah thanks no pressure at all or anything!!!!

> I could never

> I have no clue what to do tho

 

**Less attractive twin:**

> go inside, maybe?

 

Keith is only in a hoodie and jeans when he answers the door, further making Lance second-guess his outfit choices. But he smiles, big and wide and beautifully, which kind of fixes everything.

“You suck at cup pong,” Lance blurts out. Idiot. Freaking idiot.

“Yeah, and you suck at 8ball, so what exactly is your point?” Keith goads. Instead of inviting Lance in, he steps out into the hall and locks his door behind him. Oh, so they’re doing this _right now_.

Lance’s heart starts to speed up again. Keith is walking way too fast toward Shiro’s door for his liking, and Lance’s head is swirling. He’s about to be in Takashi Shirogane’s apartment, surrounded by famous people. At the same time, running his fingers through Keith’s hair is fighting to be the only thing on his mind. It looks softer than usual today.

Keith just opens the door up without even knocking, like he belongs there, so maybe Lance will cling to him for dear life all night. As the door swings open, Lance catches sight of Adam Wright in the clear light of the kitchen, pouring Dr. Pepper into a glass. He nods hello at Lance, and Lance tries to keep it together as he nods back.

His head is still spinning while he glances around the impeccably clean apartment. It’s bigger than Keith’s, with a living room the size of Lance’s entire apartment put together and a wide-open kitchen with a literal chandelier.

This is where Takashi Shirogane lives. Takashi freaking Shirogane. And Keith is beside him, tucking his hands into his hoodie pocket, looking flushed and extremely kissable.

At least it’s just Adam here now and not the whole cast. His heart probably couldn’t take it if he had to walk into the crowd of actors all at once.

Across the apartment, hangers screech from Shiro’s closet. Lance’s stomach is in his throat.

“Do I need to pick up the pizzas?” Keith calls out, stepping closer toward Shiro’s room.

“Nah, they’re being delivered.” It’s Shiro, now, padding out into the living room in black jeans and a purple zip-up sweatshirt, hair wet from a shower. Just casual, everyday Shiro in his natural habitat, talking about pizza. Holy freaking shit.

There’s a tense air among the three others as soon as Shiro walks out, one Lance can’t begin to interpret. He almost wonders if Keith wasn’t supposed to invite him, but Shiro doesn’t give him very long to think this before he smiles at him.   

“Hey Lance,” he says. “I like your shirt. Very California.”

So, the shirt? Totally a good idea.

 

Lotor is a lot taller than Lance was expecting. He’s not like Shiro, who Lance knows the exact height of – 6’2 – and he always looks a lot shorter standing next to Ezor on screen. But apparently, it’s that Ezor’s model tall and not that Lotor’s short. Lance shakes his hand, staring up at him in awe.

“This is Lance,” Shiro says, chewing on a bite of pepperoni mushroom pizza. “He’s Keith’s friend.”

This is the third cast member he has been introduced to so far, and he’s still in disbelief. If someone had told him a month ago that he’d meet the entire cast of _Kerberos_ in one night, he would have laughed in their faces.

Quite frankly, he’s in disbelief that he’s in Shiro’s apartment and Shiro’s the one doing the introducing, but that’s a given. Takashi freaking Shirogane. God.

“Did Keith’s friend sign an NDA?” Lotor asks over another crowd of people that comes in. Lance watches as a girl who looks just like Romelle waves at her.  “’Cuz I brought—”

Despite not getting a real answer about the non-disclosure agreement, Lotor slips his hand in his pocket and pulls out a bag of blunts most likely pre-rolled by his own assistant. If he thinks the entire fandom hasn’t already inspected several candid photos and videos of him and knows he smokes weed, he has another thing coming for him. But Lance just smiles.

“I’m not going to make the kid sign an NDA for your drug habits,” Shiro laughs. “What’d I tell you, though? Smoke outside this time, dude.”

“’My drug habits,’ he says,” Lotor grins, pointing at Shiro, talking directly to Lance now. Lance tries not to gape at him. “As if he’s never smoked a day in his life.”

Adam slides between Lance and the two actors, reaching up into a cupboard to get a glass. Shiro’s eyes trail down to the inch of skin showing when his shirt’s pulled up, and Lance clears his throat. All night, they’ve been very subtly flirting, but Lance once spent an entire night inspecting interviews for clues they were dating. They can’t get anything past him.

“Takashi can’t smoke because when he does, he gets all paranoid and starts talking about aliens,” Adam says as he uncaps a bottle of whiskey. His eyes flick to Lance. “Then he starts drawing weird shit.”

“It’s the show getting to him,” Lotor says. “Pour me one, would you?”

Adam reaches up again to grab another glass. This time, Shiro pokes the bare skin, making Adam pitch forward.

“Uh, sir,” Shiro teases. “I thought we weren’t drinking tonight.”

Adam holds up a finger. “One. I have a much higher tolerance than you my friend.”

He hands Lotor his drink, and the two of them move back to the living room, where Romelle and Ezor are sat watching the _Supernatural_ reruns playing before _Kerberos_ premieres. They’re arguing over whether Sam or Dean is better, and Lotor settles it by bringing up how he’s met both of them and ‘Jensen is cooler, by far. Has less of a stick up his ass.’

Other cast members are milling about, talking. Sometimes they’ll sneak away from their conversations to get a drink from the kitchen, and Lance has just been standing here, trying to figure out how he can feel like he knows each of them so well but not at all at the same time.

Keith disappeared somewhere a while ago, which makes Lance feel a bit like he’s jumping off a cliff without a parachute. Everyone here is in their element, totally famous or at least friends with the totally famous, except for him. And for a reason unbeknownst to Lance, Shiro stays here in the kitchen with him, talking and inhaling pizza by the slice.

“Sorry I completely didn’t recognize you yesterday, by the way,” Shiro says. He turns to pour a glass of soda, tilting his head back to look at Lance. “I didn’t know you lived in L.A. It caught me off-guard.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine!” Lance says quickly.

Every time Shiro brings up the DMs, Lance’s heartrate doubles. He knew it was real, especially once he heard Shiro’s voice on Skype, but this just solidifies it. They’re friends.

Well, sort of. Online, it was a lot easier to tell Shiro everything he was thinking of and going through. Here, he’s at a loss for words, and it seems Shiro is too.

“So your last day at the bar is tomorrow?” Shiro asks, taking a sip, and Lance nods. “That’s good. You probably shouldn’t be working places that give you panic attacks.”

“Keith pretty much saved my life,” he says, and Shiro smiles.

Before Shiro can respond, Adam stands up on a chair with his empty glass in hand. He lifts it, proclaiming, “Ten minutes, everyone!”

“You’re so excited for us to watch you make out with Shiro,” Ezor says. “It’s cute.”

Shiro chokes on his drink, covering his mouth with his hand. Lance figured they’d have a few romantic scenes in this episode, but his amazing brain doesn’t fail to remind him that he’s the only one who doesn’t know exactly what they’re talking about.

He glances around the apartment again, at all of the famous actors he’s somehow in the same vicinity of all at once. Still no Keith, though, which is most unsettling of all.

“Do you know where he went?” he asks. It might be rude to be looking for the only non-celebrity in this apartment, but he’s also the only one Lance is drawn to right now. Apparently not even Takashi Shirogane can distract him from the thread tugging him to Keith.

Shiro turns his head and lifts his chin toward the balcony doors. Outside, the sun is setting in pinks and oranges behind the distant palm trees. “On the terrace, I think,” he says, and of course he says terrace. What a rich person word. “He gets anxious around a ton of people.”

“Do you mind if I--?” he tilts his own head toward the doors.

“Oh, go ahead,” Shiro says.

When he slides the door open, Keith startles. He’s sitting in a patio chair with his legs up on the railing, but he pulls his legs down and tucks them under him instead.

“I was beginning to think you didn’t have any friends,” Lance says, and Keith laughs humorlessly, but his eyes still crinkle at the sides.

“They’re not really my friends,” he says. “They’re too rich and famous to be my friends.”

Lance pulls the other patio chair up beside him and sits down. He puts his legs up on the railing like Keith had, and Keith follows his lead.

“Who decided that? You or them?”

Keith is silent for a moment, staring ahead at the sunset.

“Me, I guess.”

“Why?”

Again, Keith doesn’t say anything. He keeps his eyes ahead and chews on the inside of his lip. A few times, he opens his mouth, but immediately closes it again.

“It’s weird,” he says eventually. “They all have millions of people who think they’re great, so it kind of makes it seem like they’re better than me. And even the writers and people on set, they’re all creating something that matters to people. I’m just kind of there.”

“Well, I hate to say it Keith, but you’re wrong,” Lance says. Keith looks at him, and the expression he’s wearing is so fond, Lance practically chokes. “I mean, don’t you, like, literally make sure Shiro stays alive? What would the show do without you?”

Keith chuckles. “I guess you’re right.”

“And they’re just people, apparently,” Lance says, half to Keith and half to himself. If there’s anything he’s learned in the last hour, it’s that.

He was dumbfounded when he first walked in, but now he’s seeing just now _normal_ they all are. Just a group of friends with inside jokes he knows nothing about, who eat pizza and tease each other.

“I kind of like you better, anyway.”

“Says Shiro’s biggest fan.”

“I’m a big fan of yours, too.”

Keith’s lips part, as if he’s going to respond, but he just shakes his head. A bird cuts through the sky as the colors change to a darker shade of red. Lance presses his mouth shut and seriously contemplates if he could be any more grossly obvious about his crush.

“So,” he breathes out a heavy breath. “Want to go to a real party?”

Keith does a double take as he looks back to Lance. “What? You want to leave already?”

“Oh! No! I mean,” Lance stammers, “I was just quoting _Titanic_.”

“Oh,” Keith falls back against the chair then. “I’ve only seen the second half. The first half was just boring romance stuff.”

Lance blinks at him. “You are the least cultured person I know.”

Keith shrugs, smiling. His smile – or face, honestly – could cure cancer and bring peace to wars and probably end world hunger if he tried hard enough. “I’ve never seen _Jaws_ , either.”

“Oh my god. Did Shiro tell you how important that movie is to me?” Lance asks. “We need to watch it sometime! And _Titanic_!”

“Is that what the ‘real party’ will be?” Keith asks. “A movie marathon?”

“Well,” Lance folds his hands in his lap. Behind him, the cast starts whooping and hollering. The show has started, but he makes no move to leave. He’s recording it at home, anyway. “Have you ever been to a frat party?”

Keith doesn’t miss a beat. “I’ve been to a party at Zac Efron’s house.”

“I literally hate how many famous people you know.”

“I thought you said they were just people,” Keith raises an eyebrow, challenging him. Lance opens his mouth to respond, but Keith goes on before he can. “Anyway, I told you, I don’t talk to any of them. I spent most of that party in the bathroom. He has that painting of dogs playing poker above his toilet.”

“I’m really glad that that’s now a piece of trivia I have in my brain,” he says. “Well, do you want to come to a frat party with me?”

Keith looks at him seriously, and in the dimming light of the sunset, Lance can see the tiny scar he has on his cheek. He can see the freckle above his eyebrow and the cute way his nose turns up a little. He better be at least bisexual, because if Lance doesn’t get to kiss every inch of his face soon, he might die.

“Only if they have a pool table so I can beat your ass,” he says, and Lance shoves at his shoulder.

“I’ll make sure to take you to a house with a pool table.”

They sit on the balcony quietly while the sunset turns to night time. Soon, the two of them are only backlit by Shiro’s apartment lights. The darker it gets, the more he itches to touch Keith again. The warmth from his arm when Lance shoved him is still stinging at Lance’s hand.

“Will you still braid my hair?” Keith just barely breaks the silence in a whisper. He’s read Lance’s mind, and as hopelessly romantic as always, Lance thinks that maybe this could be a sign that Things Are Happening.

“I did bring the goods,” Lance says, pulling out his own little baggy from his pocket. It’s filled with clear elastic bands.

Soon Keith is at his feet, sitting on the concrete of the patio. The light is so dim that he can barely see, but he could do this with his eyes closed. His fingers twitch, and he hesitates to run them through Keith’s hair. It might be so soft, it’ll compel him to join Keith on the floor, knock him over, and kiss him.

“What side do you want it on?” he asks to delay the inevitable, just as quietly as Keith had asked his own question.

“You pick,” Keith says, and Lance can do nothing but take the leap. He brings his hand to the front of Keith’s scalp and pushes his hair back with his fingers. It is, in fact, just as soft as it looks. He does, in fact, have to stop himself from kissing him.

He parts it on the left side and focuses way too intently on separating the front of the hair into thirds. His hands seem like a separate entity now, and for a second, he forgets how to waterfall braid. He fumbles around and has to pause after dropping the first strand to figure out what to grab next, but at least it makes Keith giggle.

When the door slides open behind them, he nearly drops everything. The sounds of the party get louder for just a moment, the cast cheering at something happening on screen, before the door is slid shut again.

It’s Lotor, coming out to smoke. He eyes them while he lights a joint, but Lance is the only one who notices. Keith’s eyes are closed, like they would be at a hair salon. Or if he were reveling in Lance’s touch just as much as Lance is reveling in the softness of his hair.

Hey, a hopeless romantic can dream.

“Want to do mine next?” Lotor asks, puffing smoke out into the air. Lance can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

“Oh, um,” Lance starts as he finishes up the braid. He starts to secure it, but the rubber band snaps and he has to grope around to pull another one out of the bag with one hand. “I mean, I can.”

That would kind of ruin the romantic overtones that Lance was hoping this had. But it’s _Lotor_ and maybe Lance understands now what Keith means about people being too rich and too famous for him to be friends with them. He doesn’t want to disappoint him, whether he’s ‘just a person’ or not.

Keith stands up now that the braid is finished, and out of impulse Lance stands too.

“I’ll have to—does Shiro have a brush?” Lance asks. “I’ll have to get a brush. It’s harder with super long hair.”

Lotor takes another drag, and as he laughs, the smoke comes out in puffs. “I’m just joking with you. Looks good, though.”

“Oh. Well,” Lance stands there, hands hitting his sides. “I have to pee, anyway. Do you want anything, Keith?”

Keith stares at him. “From the bathroom?”

“I mean—you know what I mean,” Lance insists. “Like food or anything when I come back.”

“Oh, no,” Keith says. “That’s okay.” He’s giving him that fond look again and Lance has to flee before he actually does knock him over and kiss him.

He pushes the door open and shut in such quick movements it almost gives him whiplash, and he books it straight past everyone and down the hallway.

He’s about to shut himself in the bathroom and actually pee, he really is. But the light in Shiro’s room is on, revealing not only Shiro’s seemingly professionally made bed and vacuumed floors, but Shiro and Adam themselves.

From any other angle they’d be out of sight, but Lance is standing just where you can see them. And they’re standing incredibly close, much closer than friendly.

He should just turn back around. Maybe go into the bathroom and turn the fan on so he doesn’t hear them, or at least so that they know he’s there. But his brain is short circuiting again, so he just kind of stands there like an idiot.

“—not mad,” Shiro says, voice low. “I can’t stop thinking about what he said, about how he knew I’d hate him sooner or later, and about how he didn’t think one of my fans could like him in comparison.”

“Takashi, that’s just him and his issues,” Adam says. He runs a hand down Shiro’s arm. “It’s not your fault.”

“Just, everything I do for him is to help him,” Shiro says. “But now I think I might have just made everything worse. I mean he doesn’t have any other friends except me because of a job _I_ gave him, and now I guess he just compares himself to me.”  

“Takashi—”

Lance swallows. They’re talking about Keith and he really shouldn’t be listening.

“I’ve given him a complex.”

“You haven’t given him a complex,” Adam laughs softly. “Contrary to what the fandom says, you aren’t anyone’s dad.”

“But—”

“Hey,” Adam stops him, taking Shiro’s face in his hands.

Lance has to lean against the wall for support while Shiro looks into Adam’s eyes, smiling softly. _Way_ much more than friendly. And then they kiss, and they’re not acting, and holy shit Lance should not be watching this. He can’t help the tiny “oh” that escapes his mouth as he stumbles back.

It’s Shiro that turns to find him standing there first, Adam with his eyes still closed, still taking the kiss in. But he’s close behind, and then both of their eyes widen.

“Lance—” Shiro starts, but Adam steps forward to pull Lance into the room and shuts the door behind him before he can finish.

Now it’s Lance’s turn to be wide-eyed. His two favorite actors are standing right in front of him, looking as though they’re considering maybe killing him and making it look like an accident but oh my god are those poorly-covered-up hickeys on Adam’s neck and _wow brain now is not the time._

“You just saw us—we—oh my god,” Shiro says, and he puts his face in his hand. He lifts it only to finish his thought. “You just saw us kiss, didn’t you?”

Lance nods, holding back an “I knew it!” It was fine to say to Keith, but something tells him it wouldn’t fly with these two.

“So, look, you can’t tell anyone what you just saw, obviously,” Adam says. He has his arms crossed, all business. Shiro looks like he might start sweating.

“Not even the people out there know,” Shiro says, gesturing toward the door. He might even start crying, if Lance is seeing things right.

“I-I, well, I won’t,” Lance says. Of course, he won’t. After everything Shiro has done for him? It’s almost poetic that he do something for Shiro, even if it’s something as stressful as keeping what he’s wanted to happen for a year now a secret from all of his friends. “Does Keith know, at least?”

He has to talk to someone. But _oh my god_ , Keith literally told him a few days ago, when he asked what Keith thought about them, before he knew anything about Keith’s job. How did he not put two and two together?

“Yeah, Keith knows,” Shiro scratches the back of his head. “Wait—How much did—how long were you standing there?”

“I heard Keith has a complex,” Lance says, and Adam snorts out a laughter so candid it makes Lance smile despite the situation.

“Yeah, don’t tell him I said that.”

“I wouldn’t, Shiro,” Lance says. “I’m really good at keeping secrets, guys, I promise. My sister and I once went an entire month planning birthday parties for each other and neither of us knew. And we’re twins.”

The two men study him, trying to decide what to do. Shiro tilts his head, squinting, and Adam fidgets, readjusting his arms over his chest. Lance notices that Shiro also has a poorly-covered hickey on his neck, right above his collarbone.

If this were a year ago, Lance would have tweeted about this right away. He would have tweeted about the invitation to Shiro’s apartment as soon as he got the text from Keith. That’s how he got so many followers – tweeting his every thought about Shiro.

But he can see the curious cat messages he’d get already, calling him a liar, an attention seeker, asking for proof. And besides, it’s Shiro asking him to keep quiet, and he’d do anything for him.

“Seriously, you guys.”

“Okay,” Shiro sighs. He holds his hand out to shake, and Lance can see the movie shot in his head – their two hands joining, up close, a symbol of the secret binding them.

He turns to leave, but then two things hit him at once: they _were_ talking about Keith and Lance might just be the Shiro fan he didn’t think would like him. Maybe. He spins back around.

“Shiro, is Keith gay?”

“Wh—that’s not really—” Shiro’s eyebrows knit together. “That’s not really something for me to tell. You know that.”

“Right,” Lance shakes his head. “No, you’re right. Sorry. But I guess I can share a secret with you guys, too. It can be, like, blackmail for you guys.”

Shiro keeps his eyebrows woven together, and Adam looks like he’s holding back more laughter. He’s no longer all business. Lance clasps his hands together and fiddles with his fingers.

“I like Keith. Like, in a way that I go home and lie in bed and analyze everything he said to me that day,” he says quickly. “So _there._ Don’t tell that to anyone. I have my own image to uphold.”

Telling anyone he has a crush would certainly uphold his obsessive, romantic image, but he won’t mention that. If they told Keith, though. Well, that might just make everything worse. So, it’s a pretty reasonable secret exchange.

“Good to know,” Adam says while a tiny, knowing smile plays on Shiro’s face.

“If you tell him, I’ll tweet about those hickeys to my 50 thousand followers,” Lance lies, and then his eyes widen. He just threatened his favorite couple in the entire world. “Okay bye!”

He makes his exit, twisting the doorknob to _Shiro’s freaking bedroom. (_ So maybe he hasn’t completely bought into the whole ‘they’re just people’ mentality yet.) As he’s leaving, he hears Shiro say above a whisper, “This is your fault, you know.”

His voice is light, airy, in love. Lance doesn’t understand why they don’t just tell people. They’d be the most powerful power couple in Hollywood. They’d beat out Jay Z and Beyoncé, especially because Shiro and Adam would never cheat on each other.

“My fault?” Adam laughs.

“You have one glass of whiskey and go kissing me when there are several people here.”

“I can’t resist whiskey. You knew that when we bought it,” Adam says. “And if you didn’t go around having _lips like that_ maybe we wouldn’t be in this—”

He’s cut off mid-sentence. Lance glances back, and there they are, kissing again. The door still wide open.

 

-

 

The party is in full-swing when Keith comes back inside to get a drink. Romelle has a plate piled high with her own buffalo chicken dip and is talking to her stunt double with big, dramatic hand gestures. Ezor has joined Lotor out on the balcony to smoke now that the show has ended. Keith wants to go home and sleep.

Shiro and Adam are, of course, nowhere to be found. The cast has 100% noticed, and they’re 100% off being irresponsible, probably in Shiro’s room. Keith wonders what percentage of his fault this is.

He’s getting some buffalo dip of his own, mid-scoop, when Lance bolts by. He’s heading to the balcony, looking as endearingly excited as ever. He’s probably ready to tell Keith about the ‘Bold and Brash’ Squidward painting Shiro has above his own toilet.

“Lance,” Keith says from the kitchen before Lance can get far, and he whips back around, eyes bright.

“Keith!” he says, taking two steps at a time toward him. “Wait, hold on, okay.”

He reaches out to pull a strand of Keith’s hair out of his face, one of the first let go to make the ‘waterfall’ part of the braid. His finger brushes Keith’s cheek when he does, and Keith’s insides go wild.

“I didn’t do so bad in the dark,” Lance says, admiring his work. Keith is hardcore blushing and he knows it.

“What were you so excited about?” he asks, eager to get Lance’s eyes off of him just so he doesn’t explode. “Isn’t Shiro’s bathroom sink weird? I hate that it’s like, a bowl. He got that installed with his first _Kerb_ paycheck and the landlord hated him for it.”

“Wait, Keith,” Lance says, looking behind him at Romelle. “Do you have your phone?”

“Um,” he reaches into his pocket to pull it out. “Yeah.”

Lance pulls his own phone out, typing at a rapid speed. Keith’s lights up with a text soon after Lance makes a dramatic show of pressing send.

 

**Lance** :

> I just saw shiro and adam kiss TWICE without cameras on them

> so I am in on your secret now

> we’re blood brothers

        

Keith reads through the texts three times before fully comprehending them.

So, they are being completely irresponsible, and the worst that could happen has happened. A member of the cast would be one thing, but Lance is another. Shiro’s door shuts in the distance and Keith sighs.

Shiro and Adam come down the hallway together, just as Ezor and Lotor are coming back inside. Ezor whistles, Romelle hides a giggle with her hand.

They really couldn’t wait until everyone left. They really were too caught up in each other to even leave the room separately, maybe have one of them flush the toilet to pretend they were going to the bathroom. At least _try_ to make this an actual secret.

But still, no one knows what’s going on for sure except for them, and Keith has to make sure it stays that way.

“Lance,” Keith says, putting his phone back in his pocket before anyone can walk up behind him and see. “I’m the only other person who knows about that.”

“I know, they told me.”

“You can’t tweet about it or tell your friends.”

“Honestly?” Lance says. “I feel so cool knowing something no one else in the fandom does. I’m not going to ruin that by _telling_ anyone.”

“You can’t tell Rachel or your mom or anyone.”

“Keith,” he says. “I won’t.”

And then he holds out his pinky for Keith to take. Reluctantly, Keith wraps his pinky around his and nods. He can see that Lance is holding things back, that he wants to know more, but he’s not asking and Keith’s not about to tell him.

Lance looks out into the open space of the living room, where Adashi has joined everyone and the cast has gone back to talking and laughing and drinking, and he has this huge grin on his face. It’s a look he didn’t even have when he walked into Shiro’s apartment. He looks like he feels like he belongs to something now.

For a second, Keith wonders if maybe trusting Lance with such a secret is worth seeing him look that happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's be friends!  
> [TWITTER](http://www.twitter.com/stephclaires)  
> [ART INSTA](http://www.instagram.com/literatidraws)  
> 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Keith and Lance can no longer hide their crushes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was really hard for me to write and my brain hurt for several days afterward if you like it please comment and let me know so my hell brain can rest.

**FRIDAY, APRIL 19**   
  


Every day for two weeks, Shiro asks Keith if Lance has “shown any signs of telling anyone.” His mind is a train going a million miles per hour straight off the tracks, and all Keith can do is sit and watch. He’s tried assuring Shiro that Lance isn’t going to tell anyone, but he never quite believes him.

It’s all Shiro thinks about, even when he pretends not to. At home, he’ll pretend to study his lines but forget them on set the next day. Then, he’ll sit in his trailer, fan-made pillow clutched against his chest, claiming he’s getting back into the groove of being on social media for real. But Keith knows that all he’s doing is checking Lance’s Twitter to make sure he hasn’t tweeted about what he saw. If he was doing anything else, he would’ve tweeted something by now, or at least liked something.

He’s so paranoid his relationship will be revealed that it’s as if he’s not in one at all anymore. When they started dating, Keith couldn’t go to Shiro’s apartment without seeing Adam hanging out there. Now, he’s only seen him there a few times. Keith can only assume he comes in through the back door.

“I should have made him sign an NDA,” Shiro mutters to Keith for the thousandth time as he slips his shoes on. He trips over his feet, bracing himself against the wall. “We wouldn’t have to do this if he’d signed an NDA.”

“Maybe you should just tell the public yourself, on your, y’know, your own terms,” Keith says reluctantly. It was either that or remind Shiro, also for the thousandth time, that Lance has no basis to stand on, that no one would believe him. And if he had signed an NDA, it would have involved Allura, who would have wondered what they were doing inviting Lance to an exclusive party in the first place.

Shiro would have sighed, like he did every time Keith said this to him, and it would have gone in one ear and out the other. Then, Keith would have had to hear “I should have made him sign an NDA” tomorrow and the next day, on and on. This, at least, is some new ground to cover.  

“I’m not doing that,” Shiro says simply. He purses his lips, shaking his head. “No, I’m not.”

“Why not?” Keith asks. “Allura would get over it. She’s just worried about the show and your contract, but your relationship is solid. I mean, it is, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is, but—” Shiro pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just leave it, Keith.”

“Just think about it. She’s forgetting that you two were friends for a year before this. She’s thinking it’s going to be a hook-up type of thing like it was with Curtis, but if you just tell her—”

Shiro disappears down the hallway toward his room, head down. Keith groans, letting his eyes shut. Today, they’re going to dinner with Lance so that Shiro can “keep an eye on Lance himself.” Shiro hasn’t said it outright, but Keith knows it’s because he still doesn’t exactly trust Keith as much as he used to. He isn’t sure that Keith could be the one to keep such a secret secure.

But no one would have to keep it secure if it wasn’t a secret anymore. There, problem solved.

Shiro comes back out, slipping his bomber jacket on. His mouth is in a tight line as he grabs his keys from the counter and pockets them.

Keith opens his mouth but promptly closes it again. Shiro’s searching the kitchen for his sunglasses when Lance’s voice appears, just slightly in the back of his mind, reminding him that he – his opinion included – matters just as much as any actor in Hollywood.

Still, he braces himself, even before speaking. “I don’t get why you’re being so stubborn. It’s a good idea, and there’s less stress involved.”

Shiro’s sunglasses scrape against the counter as he swipes them up. He slides them on top of his head, scowl still evident on his face. “Because it’s one thing to be out and another to be in a relationship.”

Shiro heads for the door without another word. Keith opens his mouth again, still riding the high of talking back, but Shiro turns to look at him once his hand hits the doorknob. He’s frowning now.

“I’m not talking about this anymore, okay? At least not right now,” he says, softer now. He pulls the door open to the hallway, where anyone can hear what Keith says from behind their own apartment doors. In other words, end of discussion. “Let’s go. I’m starving, and I was thinking we could go to Mel’s.”

Lance is making Kosmo sit pretty when Keith unlocks the door to his own apartment. His hand is in the air with a treat, eyes and smile bright as the dog’s tail wags. It’s a sight that spurs such a warm reaction in Keith that he has to hide his smile. If his crush ever became obvious to Shiro, Shiro’d probably start spiraling again right then and there.

“Hey, man,” Lance says easily, tossing the treat for Kosmo to catch in his mouth. When he finally looks up, his eyes settle on Shiro, and he takes a step back. “Shiro. Hi. I—I haven’t told anyone anything! I haven’t even told my sister. It kind of sucks because she can tell I know something and she keeps glaring at me over breakfast to try to make me break, but I’ve kept my lips sealed shut.”

“Thanks, Lance, but I’m not here to intimidate you,” Shiro says. It’s a half-truth. The very plan for this evening is to make sure Lance doesn’t feel inclined to ever spread the news. But it’s intimidation through friendship so, Shiro claims, it’s totally fine. “Keith and I were just going to get dinner, and I thought you should tag along.”

“Really?” Lance’s eyes are wide, and he shakes his head to bring himself back to reality. “I mean, cool! Yeah, I haven’t eaten yet, so that’d be great. I just took Kosmo for a walk so he’s good to go.”

He practically skips toward them, smile so bright Keith has to look away.

They walk side by side down the hall, Shiro less than a yard ahead of them. Keith turns to him, just to steal a glance, but in the new light he notices a fresh cut on Lance’s jaw, still wet with blood.

“What happened to your face?” he asks, reaching out briefly only to pull his hand back.

“Oh,” Lance’s shoulders sink, and his face flushes. “I—Well, I tried to run with Kosmo, but he was way too strong. He knocked me over and dragged me like half a block.”

Lance lifts his arm to show Keith the series of more minor scrapes all over his arm. Keith has to hold back laughter.

“You think you’d have learned from the ASPCA thing,” Keith says as they all head down the stairs. “Huskies are literally born to pull things.”

“I did learn from it,” Lance insists, making a show of pouting. “That’s why I had the leash wrapped around my hand enough for him to drag me.”

Keith lets his laughter bubble out this time. “You’re ridiculous,” he says. What he really means is, “You’re the cutest guy I’ve ever met.”

Shiro decides to impress Lance into silence by taking them to Mel’s in his BMW. And impress him into silence he does.

Lance keeps quiet as he ducks into the backseat, but Keith knows him enough by now to see he’s in awe. He’s still mentally ooh-ing and ahh-ing as Keith pops the front seat back up and Shiro starts the car. Keith shifts in his seat and tries to focus on how endearing it is instead of his unfounded jealousy.

He’s _known_ Lance was impressed by Shiro’s very existence. Of course he’s going to be excited to be in Shiro’s car.

The drive to Santa Monica takes about eight years with all of the traffic, and Shiro taps his fingers against the steering wheel without speaking. He hasn’t read through the DMs since before the watch party, Keith knows it. So, he can’t risk anything.

But Keith can’t come up with anything to say for the life of him either, and Lance is preoccupied with returning himself to earth in the backseat. So, silence it is. Keith opens his phone to check Shiro’s Twitter out of instinct, but he’s been officially locked out of it for a week now, along with his Instagram.

The only thing that opens up is his own, boring account. His thumb hovers over the search bar and he clears his throat, turning back to Lance.

“What’s your Twitter?” he asks.

Lance is staring out the window now, and he jerks up. Keith can’t tell if it’s because of the question or because Shiro suddenly hits the brakes and the car behind them lays on their horn. By the way he sinks in his seat, pouting again, it’s probably a little bit of both.

“Oh, it’s, um,” his eyes flick to Shiro, then back to Keith, “it’s thesoftshiro. I should probably change it now, though.”

“What’s that mean, anyway?” Shiro asks as he puts his indicator on to switch lanes. The 405 is bumper to bumper, as expected for 6 p.m. on a Friday, and there’s no chance he’s getting over any time soon. “Soft?”

“Oh, it’s like—” Lance pauses to think. “I’m not sure how to explain it. I guess its—I guess it’s someone that’s really safe and nice.”

Keith just barely catches Lance’s eyes on him as he says it, only looking into the rearview mirror a split second before Lance breaks his gaze back to Shiro. His stomach tumbles and he tries to tell himself it doesn’t mean anything. It’s better if it doesn’t.

He brings his attention back to his phone. As Lance continues to ramble through an explanation, Keith types in his username and hits follow. Soon, after silence befalls the car once again, ‘@thesoftshiro followed you back!’ appears on his screen.

He smiles to himself, even though he knows he shouldn’t. It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean anything. But it sort of feels like they’re starting over.

 

Heads turn and anxious whispers start up as the Mel’s Drive-In hostess leads them to a table. Keith always thinks Santa Monica can’t be as bad as Hollywood, and he’s always wrong.

He can already see dozens of teenagers, tourists and residents alike, getting ready to ask for a photo. It’s not every day they see a celebrity, even in L.A. Some of them will recognize that they shouldn’t bother Shiro while he’s eating, but most don’t.

In fact, they’ve barely slid into the retro-style booth before a group of girls, each probably not more than 15 years old, comes up to say hi. They’re absolutely glowing, so much so it’s almost hard to be annoyed with them. Almost.

“Hi, Shiro,” one says shyly. As soon as Shiro smiles, though, they’re excitedly telling him their reactions to the most recent episode of _Kerberos_ and what they’re most excited for in tomorrow’s episode.

Keith tunes them out as Shiro does his duty as #1 Teen Heartthrob, smiling and nodding and responding when appropriate, and Lance leans in toward him. He expects him to say something like, “I feel so cool right now.” Instead, he whispers, “Are you ready for tonight?”

Keith’s stomach does several more somersaults. He’s lucky a waitress stops by with three waters and gives him time to recover. She leans against the edge of the booth, watching as Shiro takes individual selfies with each fan.

“Girls, let the man have a meal in peace, please,” she says. Her nametag says Denise – Keith, taking a deep breath to still his stomach, recognizes her as the same Denise that served them the last time they were here in 2018, when fans nearly swarmed the table. It was just after the first season of Kerberos ended and everyone and their mother needed a photo of _the_ Takashi Shirogane.

Denise has just as much fire in her eyes as she did when she told them all to get back to their tables or get out. She must deal with celebrities and their fans weekly.

They roll their eyes, but they still obey. Shiro’s nice enough to let the last girl get her selfie before the group makes a show of stomping away. When they’re back at the safety of their table, they squeal, showing their parents the photos they just got.

Denise turns her attention back to Shiro with a smile. “I’ll be back to take your orders in a bit.”

When she steps away, Keith whispers back, “I’m ready to beat your ass at pool, yeah.” He nudges Lance’s arm and watches him hold back a wince. “Especially now that you’ve got a bad arm.”

“I’ll beat you even with my bad arm, Mullet,” Lance tugs on Keith’s ponytail, earning him yet another shove and too loud of a laugh from Keith. He doesn’t have to look to know that same group of girls just turned to see what’s happening at _Shiro’s_ table.  

He glances back to Lance, still smiling and determined not to let Shiro’s fame bother him today. Not when Lance is here. The cut on Lance’s jaw, he notices, is starting to scab over with some blood smeared under his chin. Keith’s silverware clatters on the table as he pulls the napkin out from under them, and he dips the corner of it in his water.

“Weren’t you going to clean this up?” he taunts, reaching out to wipe the blood from Lance’s face. Lance pushes his arm away.

“ _Of course I was,”_ he says as Keith tries to maneuver the napkin around Lance’s arms. He keeps putting his hands up, moving them around with fingers clenched together as though he’s going to karate chop Keith if he doesn’t stop messing around. “With peroxide, not your dirty wet napkin.”

“This napkin is perfectly clean,” he says, nearly on top of Lance now as he continues to attempt his way around Lance’s arm-shield.

From the corner of his eye, he can see Shiro with a tiny, knowing smile on his face. Lance must notice at the same time, because he puts his arms down and scoots away, clearing his throat. Keith falls back and holds the napkin out for him.

The two keep their eyes off of Shiro as Lance awkwardly wipes the blood off his chin. Keith can’t flirt like this. This can’t be a thing.

“So, uh, sorry about the fans,” Shiro says, eyes flicking between the two of them when Keith looks back up. “It’s either them or paparazzi, depending on the restaurant, and I’d always rather see fans.”

 

It isn’t until their burgers come that the three start to have a conversation that isn’t full of random silences. Everyone seems to be aware that many, many things aren’t being said.

“How’s school going, Lance?” Shiro asks eventually. It’s a safe enough question, and it gets Lance going immediately.

He covers his mouth as he chews and talks about the classes he went to today and how stressed he is for all of the different finals he has coming up next month. Shiro nods and smiles as though he knows exactly what Lance is talking about. Keith, on the other hand, has to pretend he knows a lot less than he does.

He keeps his mouth shut and watches Lance as he talks animatedly about his narrative film production project. He’s not entirely sure of what he’s supposed to know and what he knows from the DMs, and he’s not about to find out the hard way. So he just listens and takes Lance in, trying his best to keep himself from making heart eyes at him.

But Shiro is willing to take a chance, apparently. He sets his burger down and wipes his lips with his napkin, ready to ask a follow-up question. Keith wills him not to as best as he can in silence while Lance goes on.

“It kind of sucks because we’ve all written the script,” Lance says, “but James wants to be in charge so bad, I really don’t have a say in anything until I edit it.”

“You’re majoring in screenwriting, right?”

_No_. Lance had to have brought up the fact that he wants to be a producer eventually several times throughout Keith’s DM conversations with him. Shiro would have known this if it were actually Shiro.

“Oh, um, no. Film and TV production,” Lance says, smiling through it, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “I think it’d be cool to oversee everything eventually, but I really like editing. Especially stuff like that video I made for your birthday.”

“Oh, shoot,” Shiro says, pointing at Lance. It seems like he’s forgotten the cover he’s supposed to have entirely. “You made that, huh?”

Lance leans back against the seat, nodding. He picks up a fry from his plate and chomps down. “Yeah.”

“Hey!” Keith interrupts, way too enthusiastically, especially for him. “I think Kosmo is overdue for his shots. Do you think you could take him to the vet next week?”

“Sure,” Lance nods again, keeping his eyes on his plate. “No problem.”

It was better when they weren’t talking about anything at all.

 

-

 

It’s not like Lance expected to be best friends with Shiro at this point. He’s not kidding himself anymore. But the stupid conversation at dinner nags at his mind the entire drive home and replays over and over as he showers.

He’s trying not to take it personally. Shiro’s so busy, he doesn’t have time to bother remembering details about a fan’s life. But Lance’s hell brain keeps reminding him over and over that the DMs meant so much less to Shiro, that they were just something to pass the time with.

He tries to shake it off, tiptoeing into the kitchen in his sweats, hair still dripping. Keith _is_ his friend, and he has a party to get ready for.

A date, maybe. He’s not entirely sure if it’s a date, but to stay on the safe side, he’s reminded himself over and over again that it’s probably not.

Even still, his mind races with everything that could possibly go wrong. Keith, so used to having celebrities around him, is going to meet Lance’s normal peers and friends, and he could absolutely hate them. James could be there, and if it _is_ a date, Keith could change his mind and start going out with James again. Lance could get drunk and embarrass himself, which he is always entirely at risk of doing.

But Keith, somehow, isn’t sick of him yet. In fact, he seems to maybe like the way Lance is. When Lance gets excited about things, he doesn’t get annoyed or look like he’s on the verge of making fun of him for it. It’s a completely foreign thing to Lance, and he’s not sure what to make of it. 

“I’ll never be too much or not enough for the right person,” he repeats Shiro’s words yet again. He finds himself smiling just slightly while he says it this time. 

He pokes his head into the refrigerator, pulling out the wine, vanilla vodka, and mixers he bought the night before. They’ll probably have some beer and maybe even cheap vodka at the party, but since Keith didn’t end up coming over to watch _Kerberos,_ Lance never got a chance to show off his mixing skills. It’s one of two things he’s sure he’s good at, and he can’t exactly edit a video for Keith to impress him. 

Rachel, the gem that she is, made raspberry reduction for him last night and offered up one of her 24-ounce Starbucks tumblers for him to use. He takes a deep breath, uncaps the vodka, and gets to work.

He’s nearly done when the lock clicks and Rachel strolls in. She tosses her green Starbucks apron onto the couch and then catapults herself right on top of it before she even says hello.

“Here, try this,” Lance says, pouring a little of the drink into another glass. She readily sits up and takes it from him.

One sip, and her eyebrows shoot up. “Shit,” she says, smacking her lips. “What is this?”

“Vanilla vodka, that raspberry stuff, lemonade, and a little bit of lime juice.”

She offers up the now-empty glass for him to take. “You’re good. More please.”

“It’s for Keith.”

“Well, make me one,” she says. When Lance makes no show of moving or even grabbing the glass, she pouts, giving him puppydog eyes. He obeys – not because of the look she gives him, but because her deep-set undereye circles tell him she needs it. He also thinks he might see a gray hair.

“Te amo, twin,” she sings lazily.

“How was work?” he asks knowingly, getting out a taller glass and starting the mixing process all over again. Rachel supplies only a grunt in response, taking her phone from her pocket.

“Oh, FYI, your friends have been blowing up that group chat all day,” she says, dropping her phone onto her chest after hardly looking at it. “You might want to respond.”

“What was it about?”

She shrugs, closing her eyes. Mid-day shifts aren’t always terrible for Rachel, but she had an audition this morning and then somehow had to make it back across town for work in less than an hour, so Lance doesn’t push it.

He sets the finished drink on the coffee table in front of her and heads back into his room to finally check his messages. It’s probably only going to be full of theories about what’s going to happen in tomorrow’s _Kerberos_ episode.

But his eyes nearly bug out of his head when he sees that, on top of the 67 messages in the group chat, he has hundreds of Twitter notifications. Shiro’s been on Twitter even less than Lance has this last month, and any other possibility of what it could be sends Lance spiraling downward.

As he scrolls through, most of the notifications are people tagging him and saying something along the lines of “Is that you?” or “This looks a lot like @thesoftshiro.”

He goes back out into the kitchen and sits at the table, slumped over his phone. The tweet they’re all replying to is from an update account Lance knows well, Shiro Daily: “Shiro spotted out to dinner with friends today in LA! (via @kissomeshiro)”

Accompanying it is a picture of Lance, Keith, and Shiro, taken from afar at Mel’s. Lance is talking with his hands, like usual, and Keith and Shiro are listening, smiling. He squints, zooming in on himself, and trying to figure out how exactly he became someone that’s in a creeper pic posted by the biggest update account there is.

Notifications keep coming in, including smaller update accounts posting it and tagging him. They all keep saying, “Shiro out today with @thesoftshiro and their friend!” without any sort of confirmation, and everyone keeps liking it.

He doesn’t even want to look at his Curious Cat, but like the masochist he is, he does anyway. Like expected, it has exploded just as much as his notifications.

 

_Anonymous asked: did you really go out to dinner with shiro today omg_

 

_Anonymous asked: so shiro follows you and a couple of months later you’re friends with him???? ok cool_

_Anonymous asked: Lance wtf teach me your ways_

 

He could deny it, just to get everyone off of his back, but it feels like no one would believe him if he did. He’s not the only Hispanic boy in L.A., but the guy in the picture is undeniably him.

And, well, he has no other reason to deny it than to avoid hate. It’s not like he has Shiro’s number or talks to him every day anymore anyway. No one could _use_ him for anything.

Maybe one of these days he’ll shut down his Curious Cat for good. One day.

He types, “I dogsit for his assistant,” and presses send.

The more he scrolls through the asks, though, the sicker he starts to feel. He really should have tried to deny it. Half of the questions are just asking if it’s him in the picture, but the other half are the usual rude ones he always gets, just with more ammo.

 

_Anonymous asked: so you’re trying to hook up with shiro now lmao_

_– I’ve only hung out with him today and at the season one watch party and I don’t even have his number does that answer your question._

 

_Anonymous asked: do you know if adam and shiro are dating irl then?_

_\- Noooo they’re not, I saw them interact at the party and they’re definitely just friends :)_

 

_Anonymous asked: so if you’ve only met him twice how can you act like you know anything about his dating life_

 

\- _Bro relax im just answering questions people send me_

 

_Anonymous asked: who did you have to manipulate to get into that watch party bc from romelle’s pic it was definitely just the cast_

_\- no one omg I was invited by his assistant_

Lance sighs and locks his phone, ignoring the hundred other messages sitting in his Curious Cat inbox. He always thought being on the other side of things, knowing Shiro, would be great, but it’s turned out to be more stressful than anything. At least he knows better than to check any of the Kerberos gossip accounts that exist; they’re probably having a field day right now.

“What is it?” Rachel asks. She’s sat up, finishing off her drink. Lance hadn’t even noticed. “You look like someone just got murdered.”

“Oh, there’s just—” he shakes his head. “I went to dinner with Shiro and Keith and there’s a picture of it going around.”

He’s itching to continue checking the messages as Rachel lets out a high-pitched ‘Oooh.’ His brain could not possibly be any more hellish if he tried. He flips his phone screen-side down and looks back at her.

“Everyone’s being a dick,” he says. “Can you help me pick out an outfit?”

Rachel makes a show of forcing herself up off the couch and they head to their room to fish out several outfits yet again. It isn’t even worth it, because they just settle on Lance’s usual t-shirt and army jacket combo, but at least it passes the time. At least it’s better than allowing himself to be bombarded with hate.

His phone is still flooded with notifications when he checks it again, but only one catches his eye.

 

@keith_kogane replied: @thesoftshiro hi Shiro’s assistant (and other guy in the pic) here. If everyone could fuck off that’d be FAAAAANTASTIC thanks

 

Lance grins and retweets it. Just as he does, his phone simultaneously buzzes with new Twitter notifications, update accounts now tagging Keith in the photo, and a text from Keith himself.

 

**Keith:**

> if you know anyone specifically who’s harassing you tell me and ill drop kick them

> also I’ll be leaving here soon

 

**Lance:**

> what makes you think I couldn’t dropkick them myself mullet

 

**Keith:**

> I’m classically trained in the art of dropkicking

 

**Lance:**

> oh yeah?

 

**Keith:**

> don’t make me prove it to you

 

**Lance:**

> I would like to see it

 

Keith doesn’t reply, and Lance immediately, easily assumes that he’s driving, which he stops to revel in for way too long. For the first time, he didn’t assume his crush hated him when he stopped answering. Okay, yeah, the circumstances make that easier, but it’s enough for him to stop and think about.

He only snaps out of it when he hears the roar of a motorcycle outside. He changes into the outfit they picked out as fast as he can and runs his fingers through his hair. It’s still damp, but hopefully it’ll dry by the time Keith—

His phone buzzes again.

 

**Keith:**

> I’m here

> come down I have a surprise

 

Lance caps the tumbler, grabs the bottle of wine, and runs down the stairs of his apartment two at a time. Keith is right in front of the doors when he pushes them open, straddling his bike and sitting just under the lights of the apartment building. His hair is matted down and sweaty, and he holds his red helmet under one biker-jacket-clad arm. Lance has to keep himself from gaping.

“This is your surprise?” Lance asks. “Or do you have something even better to show me?”

Keith laughs. “This is it.”

“Wow,” Lance looks from the wheels of the motorcycle back up to Keith’s face. He’s never ridden a motorcycle before. Actually, his mamá would probably kill him for riding a motorcycle, but he’s not going to think about that right now. “We’re going to the party on this?”

“If you want.”

“Wow.”

Keith holds out the helmet for Lance to take. Or observe, considering the drinks are still in his hands. “I only have one, but LMU’s not far, right?”

“Yeah, I mean—” Lance shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “The house is on Beland. It’s only a few minutes from campus.”

“Cool, you can direct me when we get close.”

“Sure, um, hold on,” he lifts his head toward the window of his apartment. Rachel’s already turned the TV on and his hopefully sitting right there. “Rach!” he calls. When that doesn’t work, he adds, “Twin! Best actress in all of L.A.!”

Keith laughs just as Rachel slides the window open and pops her head out. “What?” she asks. “I didn’t even hear you leave. Oh, hi, Keith.”

Lance looks back to see him wave in his fingerless gloves. God, he hasn’t seen him wear those since the day that he met him. But he has to focus, at least so Rachel stops giving him the knowing look that could easily give his crush away. Shiro almost did that today already.

“Can you empty out my backpack and toss it down?”

She doesn’t answer, just pulls her head back inside. Lance awkwardly shifts his weight again. Keith runs his fingers through his matted hair, and Lance has to try his best not to stare.

“It’s crazy how you have so many people caring what you do on Twitter,” Keith says finally. Lance keeps his eyes trained up on the window, trying to prepare himself for the fact that he’s going to be on Keith’s bike in a matter of minutes.

He shrugs. “They care about what Shiro does.”

Rachel tosses down the bag with a simple, “Be safe,” and a wink that he hopes Keith doesn’t notice before she slides the window closed again. From the looks of it, he doesn’t notice, but Lance can never be too sure with him.

As he’s zipping the drinks in, Keith says, “That’s true, I guess. They’re all spamming me now. You should delete that question and answer thing though.”

Lance slings the bag over his shoulder and Keith hands him the helmet to finally take. He slips it over his head and tightens the buckle beneath his chin before saying, as lighthearted as possible, “But then how would my Leo ass get the attention I desperately crave?”

Keith just shakes his head, leaving Lance with nothing else to do but stare at the open spot behind Keith on the bike and brace himself. Eventually, he works up the nerve and gets on.

Keith revs up the engine and Lance looks at his hands before slowly leaning forward and wrapping his arms around Keith’s waist. He thinks he might feel him gasp, if only slightly, beneath him.

“Is that okay?” he asks over the engine, barely hearing himself underneath the helmet. He can feel himself start to shake, or maybe it’s the bike. He can’t tell.

“Yeah,” Keith calls just as loudly, voice cracking. “Sorry, I’ve never had anyone else on my bike before.”

Then, without warning, the motorcycle lurches forward and the wind whips the ends of Lance’s army jacket behind him as they sail out of the lot.

 

-

 

The adrenaline Keith felt from riding his motorcycle with Lance’s arms wrapped around him, no helmet and the wind pushing his hair out of his face, all but doubles once they park outside of the house party.

Lance hops off the bike and hands Keith his helmet, his messy helmet hair much more attractive than Keith’s probably was. He acknowledges how good it looks, in all it’s natural-curl glory, but his eyes cut back to the house in no time. All Keith can seem to focus on is the faint sound of the bass coming from inside. There’s no one out front, and the shades are drawn.

“We have to go around back,” Lance says as they walk up the driveway, backpack bouncing on his back in time with the slight skip in his step. “I’m not really sure what the exact reason is, but it’s so they won’t get busted.”

Keith just nods, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket. If he were with anyone but Lance, this would seem completely sketchy.

“Also, it’s not actually a frat party,” Lance adds, turning back to grin at Keith. They’re at the door and heading up the steps to the house far too soon. “The guy who rents this place was in a few of my classes. So, I know some people here.”

When Lance opens the unlocked door, Keith is already met with a crowd of unfamiliar people in the kitchen. They’re standing around, sipping drinks out of cans and red cups, talking in groups. He, of course, doesn’t recognize a single one of them.

“I’m smoking if anyone wants to join downstairs,” a guy pops his head into the kitchen to say before disappearing into another room. A blonde girl in a crop top to slips away from her group and follows him; just faintly, Keith hears their footsteps going down the stairs.

He’s seen this before, many times. Granted, the parties were at much bigger houses with much bigger crowds, and instead of smoking weed, everyone was snorting cocaine, but it was generally the same. Just people, doing drugs, drinking, flirting.

Maybe Lance has a point when he says rich people are just like anyone else.

But at least at those parties, Keith recognized some of the people from TV or magazines. In a sense, he felt like he knew some of them and could bring up a project or photoshoot they did if he needed a conversation starter. Here, he knows absolutely jack shit about everyone and feels just as out of place as he always has, if not more.

Lance almost immediately stops, not ten feet into the kitchen, gasping. Keith runs into him and grabs onto Lance’s shoulders to steady himself. He smells like oranges and sunshine, which does nothing but send Keith further into a spiral of panic. He takes two steps back, drops his hands from Lance, and in an attempt to ground himself, follows Lance’s gaze.

There’s a row of shot glasses lined up on the sink beside bottles of liquor. Lance takes a few more steps toward them and Keith watches, staying where he is, as he uncaps a bottle of whiskey and pours two shots. He’s hoping they’re both for Lance, because Keith’s done one single shot in his life and almost threw up.

But sure enough, Lance returns to him and holds the tiny glass out to him.

“Um,” he says, blinking down at it and back up to Lance.

“It’s Jack Daniel’s Honey. The best whiskey ever,” Lance says. “You have to try it. I think it’s sweet enough for you.”

Reluctantly, Keith takes the glass and holds it out in front of himself. The amber liquid is the last thing he’d ever order at a bar – everything he orders is colorful thanks to the fruit juice that he ensures is always in it. This – he sniffs it and pulls his head back at the strong scent – has approximately 0% fruit juice in it.

“Can I sip it?” he asks, and Lance laughs.

“No!” he says. “It’s not as big as the shots we give at the bar. It’ll go down easy, I promise.”

Keith eyes him skeptically but still holds the shot closer to his face as Lance counts down. He trusts Lance, he does, and he knows this party will be ten times easier to get through if he has some alcohol in his system. So when Lance gets to “one,” he throws it back and lets it burn his throat.

It’s sweet enough and goes down easy, like Lance said. He still cringes as he swallows, but he’s just glad he didn’t gag and spit the whiskey back into the glass. It was fine in front of Shiro, but in front of Lance? He would have died.

Lance doesn’t cringe at all, just swallows it like it’s a shot of water or something. He could probably do several more like it’s nothing.

“Good?” he asks with a grin.

“Oh, uh,” Keith says, “good enough.”

“I made something for you that you’ll probably like better,” Lance says, taking the glass from Keith and turning to put it in the sink with his own. “But let’s see if anyone I know is here.”

He starts moving through the crowd easily, wearing the same confidence he had the first time Keith saw him. It dramatically contrasts the way Keith’s feeling, and he has to wonder how real it is, if he really feels this comfortable around all of these people. Before Lance can get away, he reaches out to grab his arm.

It’s just like he would have done to keep himself from losing Shiro at a party, he tells himself. Not at all an excuse to keep touching Lance, even though he already misses the feeling of his arms around him. The way their fingers brushed when he took the shot glass from Keith wasn’t nearly enough.

“You know James,” Lance nods toward him and Keith looks over to see him talking to a different blonde girl with much longer hair. “Also, that’s my ex, Nyma, so let’s avoid them.”

Keith lets his eyes linger on the girl for a beat too long and manages to catch James’s eye. He looks away quickly, swallowing and nodding along as Lance continues to pull him through the crowd and point out random people.

Instead of stopping to talk to anyone, though, they end up on a couch in the living room. Keith has to let go of Lance’s arm, but Lance sits so close to him that their arms and thighs touch. He can’t tell if the warm feeling in his stomach is because of that or the whiskey.

“The only other time I’ve ever done a shot, I spit it back up.”

Lance looks like he’s trying not to laugh. “Was it whiskey?”

“I think it was brandy.”

“Okay, no,” Lance says, scrunching his face up. “I don’t even like brandy. Who had that idea for _you?_ ”

Keith shrugs. “Shiro.”

“You’re teaching me so much about him,” he says. His knee bumps against Keith’s, and now Keith can’t tell if his lightheadedness is from that or the alcohol hitting him. “First that he has a bold and brash painting in his bathroom and now that he’s an idiot.”

“He can’t cook, either.”

“Unbelievable. Oh!” Lance takes his backpack off and sets it on his lap to pull out a big, pink Starbucks cup. Ice clinks around inside when he holds it out for Keith to take. “For you,” he says.

Keith doesn’t get a chance to take a sip before a broad-shouldered guy plops down on the arm of the couch beside Lance. “Lancito!” he exclaims, gesturing widely, and he almost topples over. He’s clearly had a few beers already.

“Oh, hey Rolo!” Lance says, trying to match his enthusiasm over the music. He turns back to Keith, “Rolo’s one of my group members for that film project.”

“We’re gonna _kill_ it,” Rolo slurs.

Keith nods, trying his best not to visibly size him up. He’s come to hate anyone in Lance’s film group, just based on the way he talked about them in the DMs. But Lance hasn’t complained as much about it to Keith himself, he’s sure of that, so he can’t make his hatred too obvious. And, well, maybe this guy is the single good member or something.

But then Rolo’s eyes seem to fall down to the close proximity between Keith and Lance, and a condescending smile spreads across his face. Keith’s anger starts to boil up before Rolo even says a word.

“Lance,” Rolo draws out, slapping Lance’s shoulder. Lance tries to hide the way he winces, but Keith catches it. It only adds fuel to the fire. “You finally found someone willing to be your date to one of these things.” He turns his attention to Keith with a laugh. “How much did this guy pay you?”

Keith jumps up out of his seat. _“What the fuck is your problem?”_ Maybe it’s his annoyance toward Lance’s group members, maybe it’s residual anger toward everyone sending hate to Lance’s Twitter, or maybe it’s just the tiny bit of alcohol running through his system. Either way, he’s not conscious enough of it to stop himself before he steps to Rolo.

Rolo holds up his hands, letting out more loud, drunken laughter. He’s taller and a tad bulkier than Keith, but Keith’s angry enough to take him. “You good, man?”

“I’ll be good once I rearrange your fucking face,” Keith grunts. “ _Man_.”

“Holy shit, Keith,” he hardly hears Lance say. He keeps his glare set on Rolo as Lance pulls him away from the broad-shouldered idiot. “Let’s—I think more of my friends are downstairs.”

They’re a few steps away when he snaps out of it enough to notice everyone staring at them. He glances back to Rolo, who’s shaking himself off and being comforted by some brunette in an LMU hoodie. He really could have taken him.

The crowd thins out the further they get toward the stairs to the basement. Keith is still mildly seething by the time they’re on the staircase, but the lack of people around them clears his mind. Lance stops them in the dark, halfway down.

“I—um,” Lance drops Keith’s arm, holding his hands behind his back. “I don’t think this is a date or anything,” he says quickly. “I’m—Well, I’m bisexual, but I know you’re straight and that’s cool. I just brought you to this—I mean, we’re friends. Sorry.”

Keith stares back at him, tilting his head. He has to keep himself from giggling. Him? Straight? That’s the most laughable thing he’s ever heard of.

But he doesn’t say it. He can’t, really, even with the worried look Lance is giving him. He’s only said it out loud once, to Shiro. And even if he trusts Lance, he’s not sure how easy it’ll be to say it again. Especially when he knows it could open a ton of doors between them that he shouldn’t open.

So instead, he says, “It’s fine, Lance. I wasn’t—I guess I’m still annoyed over those anonymous messages.”

“Oh,” Lance says. He was hoping Keith would correct him; he can see it in his eyes. All Keith can do is smile through it right now.

“Is the pool table down here?” he asks, taking slow steps down the stairs, toward the sound of more people and the familiar smell of weed.

Lance huffs out a laugh just as someone strikes the cue ball and sends another ball into a pocket. “Yeah, and I’m ready to destroy you.”

The basement is unfinished, just one light shining above them and a dozen visible pipes. There’s an empty workbench on the far end, but otherwise it’s furnished only with the pool table and a dart board.

There are only a few people smoking weed by the steps and two girls playing pool, one of which Keith recognizes as the purple-haired girl from the bar. It’s a lot easier for him to stand being down here than upstairs, the bass of whatever song is playing now just as faint as it was from outside.

Lance walks toward the girls, much less confidence in his step than before, and Keith’s stomach sinks. He should tell him, but—

“Lone wolf, hey!” the purple-haired girl – Acxa, he thinks he heard Lance say – calls to him. She’s leaning on the pool cue, already a drink or two in herself.

The corners of Lance’s lips perk up, only slightly, as Keith waves to her. “And this is Nadia, one of the only cool people in the film school,” he says, nudging the girl with his elbow. She shoves him away, saying something about how he’s cool too.

Keith is thankful to get a text from Shiro just then, an excuse to look away from Lance’s disappointment.

It’s a screenshot of one of Lance’s tweets from today, where he told some anonymous person that Adam and Shiro aren’t actually dating. He remembers seeing it, but quite frankly, he overlooked it as the other, more hateful messages fueled his anger.

   
 **Boss Baby:**

> he just saved me several more weeks of worrying

> what a cool kid

> sometime soon we’ll have to talk about your obvious crush on him.

 

So much for being a distraction. He pockets his phone quickly, hoping no one caught of glimpse of the message. When he looks up, Lance is pulling a bottle of wine from his backpack, and Acxa is giving Keith an expectant look.

“What?”

“I said I recognize you from the bar,” she repeats. “I didn’t know you knew Lance.”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Keith says. “He takes care of my dog for me.”

“Yeah, Keith’s my new boss,” Lance says, voice strained. He drops his backpack and picks up the Starbucks cup from where he set it on the pool table. Keith takes it from him gratefully.

“Better than Zethrid, I hope.”

“Oh, yeah,” Lance says, looking to Keith as he takes a hearty sip. The drink is probably the best thing he’s tasted in years – much better than the whiskey, by far. He didn’t expect any less from Lance, and he wishes he could say it. If he didn’t fucking catfish him, he would be able to.  

“Holy shit,” he says instead.  

“I mixed it myself,” Lance tells him. “There’s some kind of raspberry sauce in it. And vanilla vodka with some lemonade.”

“Lance, you’re a better bartender than me, and you’re not even a bartender anymore,” Acxa says.

Keith takes another long sip from the tumbler, watching Lance in the low light. At least now he looks somewhat pleased with himself, no longer hiding a disappointment Keith can only begin to understand. Lance uncaps his bottle of wine and brings it directly to his mouth, swigging a few gulps down.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and surveys the nearly-empty pool table. “Alright, Keith,” he says, eyes refusing to meet his. “You ready to get schooled in billiards?”

“What the hell is billiards?” Nadia laughs.

“Yeah, no one calls it that anymore.”

 

Lance and Nadia pass the wine bottle between the two of them, an accepted team facing against Keith and Acxa. They’re on their third game, and Keith has finished a good three quarters of the drink Lance made for him. It must have had a lot of vodka in it, because he’s really, really feeling it. And while it makes the possibility of coming out to Lance seem much less scary, it also makes him terrible at pool.

He holds the pool cue, bent forward and staring at the balls left on the table with narrowed eyes. Acxa was winning her game against Nadia when they came down, but now their team is very evidently losing for the third time.

“You’re still holding it wrong,” Acxa laughs, adjusting his grip so his pointer finger rests over the stick.

He rolls his eyes at her, pushing the cue forward and missing the cue ball entirely. When he tries again, he hits it, but only sends it a few inches forward. It has to be because he’s drunk, because he is so much better at this in iMessage.

“Keith,” she whines, smacking her hand to her face. He grabs his drink off the workbench and takes a few more sips, simpering at her. He sways a bit and leans forward against the table.

“You know, you never told me your major,” he says. “What is it? Bar games?”

Lance clears his throat, his turn now, and he sidles up to Keith and leans over the table. Keith tries to keep his eyes on Acxa and not let them linger toward Lance’s ass.

“That’s basically what it is,” Acxa says as Lance hits the cue ball perfectly, sending his and Nadia’s final striped ball into a pocket. He high fives his teammate; they only have the 8-ball left to sink.

Acxa steps around the table to take her turn. She leans in, one eye closed, and sets up the cue the same way she’s been telling Keith to this whole time. She manages to get one of their four solid balls out, but they’re still a lost cause. The 8-ball and cue ball are perfectly aligned with a pocket, and Nadia is the best out of all of them. When Acxa stands up straight, she adds, “I’m not in school. I just know these guys from the bar.”

“Oh,” Keith can’t help the way he brightens. Everyone he knows is either big time famous, a college graduate, or in school. “Me either.”

“We’re more alike than I thought,” she smiles, but promptly groans as Nadia sends the 8-ball sailing into its respective pocket.

Keith uncaps his cup and downs the rest of his drink in one gulp before demanding another rematch. Acxa and Lance both shake their heads, dismissing him immediately.

“Uh, no, mullet,” Lance says. “We beat you fair and square three times. You just suck at pool in real life.”

“Not as bad—not as bad as you suck at it on the phone.”

“Debatable.”

The girls start a game of their own, denying Lance and Keith’s involvement this time. Keith whines, wanting to prove himself, but Acxa will not let him ruin another game for her. She appeases him by putting her number in his phone, claiming they could all play another game together at Altea, when he’s sober.

“What’s with the wolf?” he asks, watching from behind her as she types her name in. She’s placing a wolf emoji beside it.

“So you know it’s me, dummy.”

“I need some air,” Lance says suddenly.

“I’ll come with you,” Keith says, plucking his phone from Acxa’s hands. He can feel the hole Lance would leave if he wasn’t there, and he doesn’t like it already.

He doesn’t realize exactly how much of a haze he’s in until he has to very slowly take his steps up the stairs, wobbling and falling against Lance the whole way up.

Lance’s arm is the only thing keeping him steady when they get upstairs, and he clings to it. “Geeze, freckles,” he hears himself slur. “Did you drug my drink or something?”

“No, you’re just a lightweight.”

“I’m not…I – yeah.”

Suddenly he gets the urge to run. He makes a beeline toward the kitchen and out the door, grabbing onto kitchen counters and the fridge to steady himself and sending Lance to stumble after him. The fresh air fills his lungs and sobers him up enough to see Lance only somewhat clearly. His lips are stained cherry red from the wine, and he parts them ever so slightly, staring up at the stars.

Keith wants to kiss him. He should kiss him.

“So, Acxa, huh?” Lance asks, completely ruining it.

“Let me have some,” Keith says, taking the bottle of wine from Lance before he can fight him on it. He takes a long swig and prepares himself for what has to happen. His tongue his heavy and at the very least, the alcohol has loosened his own lips.

It’s quiet between them as he tries to pull from every fleeting thought in his brain and come up with what to say. Lance lets him finish the bottle of wine, which makes thinking harder rather than easier, like he’d hoped.

He barely had to tell Shiro he was gay; Shiro just kind of knew. It was more of Keith giving him confirmation, if anything. But Lance sincerely thinks he’s straight, somehow, and while Keith’s willing to keep some secrets from him, this is not one of them.

“I think I’m going to get a camera with the extra money I have from Kosmo,” Lance says eventually. They’ve somehow sat down on the back porch without Keith noticing, and Lance rests his chin on his knees. “Rachel keeps trying to convince me to film my own stuff, so—”

“Lance, I’m gay.”

It just comes out, much easier than the other options Keith had considered. It’s a lot simpler than rambling about the boy he had a crush on in second grade, and it’s less drastic than leaning in and kissing Lance when rejection is still a viable possibility. The disappointment he noticed on Lance’s face before could have just been wishful thinking.

It’s a relief to say the words, though, and he realizes then that it’s not as hard as he thought, at least saying it to Lance.

Lance lifts his head, turning to him slowly.

“What?”

“You—you think I’m straight,” Keith repeats. His eyes are getting heavy, and he takes the last sip left of the wine. “I’m not.”

“You’re not?”

“No, I strictly like guys,” Keith says.  _And I like you, more than I planned._ No, even with a blood-alcohol level of, like, 2, he knows better than to say that. He knows he still has a different secret to keep, one that can never come out.

“Oh,” Lance says. He’s trying to hold back a smile. “Good to know.”

 

-

 

Keith is lying with his head on Lance’s shoulder, eyes closed, and Lance doesn’t want to move out of fear of ruining this moment. Whatever kind of moment it is, exactly, he’s still not sure. Keith might be gay, but that doesn’t mean this was a date.

He shifts only slightly to get Keith’s attention.

“Do you want to go home?” he asks. “I can call Rachel.”

“Mmm,” Keith hums an out-of-tune, drunken melody. Somehow, Keith is tough and willing to fight Rolo while he’s sober, but an adorable and sleepy drunk. “Let’s go to yours.”

Lance’s heart speeds up. “What are you saying?”

Keith lifts his head, blinking sleep away. “You spend _every day_ at my apartment. I want to see yours,” he says, and then he starts giggling. “I mean—well, that sounds weird. I just thought—”

Lance laughs along, heart still beating heavily in his chest. “No, that’s fine. We can go to my apartment. That’s probably easier for Rachel, anyway.”

He’s about to go on, just nervous chattering like usual, when Keith reaches out and clutches his arm. He turns to him, and god, what he would give to kiss him right now. But he’s drunk, and Lance has never seen him like this, and maybe he’s just touchy and affectionate when he’s drunk.

“I can’t leave my bike here,” Keith says dramatically.

“Well, _you’re_ drunk, and I would kill us if I tried to drive it.”

Keith starts to fumble around, patting his pockets. He takes out his phone and drops it into Lance’s lap, but Lance just stares at it. It isn’t until Keith leans back against him that he’s spurred into action.

When he picks it up, Keith says, “My passcode is 5—56766. It’s just Kosmo but in numbers. Call Shiro, he’s in there as Boss Baby.”

“Boss baby?” Lance smiles, unlocking the phone. It opens to a text Acxa sent to herself so she’d have Keith’s number too. He clicks out of it and finds the thread between Keith and Shiro is right under it. Lance doesn’t want to look, but his gaze gravitates right to the last message Shiro sent him.

_sometime soon we’ll have to talk about your obvious crush on him_

“’Cuz he’s my boss, and sort of a big baby,” Keith says, but Lance hardly hears him as he opens up the message thread and rereads the line. It’s just under a screenshot of one of _his_ tweets.

Crush. Keith has a crush on him? At least Shiro thinks so.

He takes a deep breath and tries to contain himself as he hits ‘call’ before Keith can notice him reading the message. He’s barely comprehending the fact that he’s about to talk to Shiro for the second time today.

“Hey,” Shiro picks up on the second ring, “Everything okay?”

“Hi, Shiro, it’s Lance. Uh—”

“Shiro, can you pick up Red?” Keith says softly into the phone, his face dangerously close to Lance’s. Lance sits up straight, choking out a laugh.

“Is he drunk?” Shiro asks.

“Uh,” Lance says, looking at Keith, whose eyes are now wide with terror as he awaits an answer. Under the porch light, he can see that Keith’s cheeks are bright red against the rest of his pale skin. “Exceptionally.”

“I’ll head over,” Shiro says. “I owe him. Text me the address.”

The line goes dead, and Keith is visibly relieved when Lance tells him Shiro’s on his way. He goes back to his sleepy, drunk self, nearly falling asleep on Lance’s shoulder while Lance texts Rachel to come and get them.

It’s midnight, and they’re lucky to be leaving now and not any later, or Rachel would be fast asleep. She groans through several keyboard spams before agreeing to come and pick them up.

Eventually they walk down the driveway together, Keith attempting now to appear soberer than he is. He trips on nothing at all, turns to Lance, and says, “Why don’t you wear your hair curly like that more often?”

Lance reaches his hand up to run it through his hair. He’s only now realizing his never straightened it after he got out of the shower, too focused on everything on Twitter and making Keith’s drink perfect. “I kind of hate it,” he says.

“Oh. Well,” Keith says just as an old Toyota Camry pulls up and parks in the street. “I think it looks nice.”

Lance assumes the car is just someone coming late to the party until Shiro steps out. He walks over to him and the car chirps as he locks it behind him.

“You’re a godsend,” Keith says to him, handing him the key to his motorcycle. When Shiro takes the key, Keith pulls him into a hug. Definitely a touchy drunk.

“That’s a new one,” Shiro laughs, patting him on the back. “I don’t think I’ve seen anyone tweet that yet.”

“They say you’re an angel,” Lance says as the two pull away, and he regrets it as soon as he does. “So, like, same thing, I guess.”

But Shiro at least smiles at him and then, unexpectedly, tosses him a set of keys. They fall to the pavement, and Lance has to pick them up.

“Sick car, by the way,” Lance says. “Even cooler than the BMW.”

This makes Shiro laugh. “It’s Keith’s. Are you good to take him home?”

“I think we’re going to my apartment.”

For a beat, Shiro’s quiet, and at least Lance knows what he’s thinking now. Thanks to his own big mouth, Shiro knows they both have crushes on each other. Apparently. He still doesn’t quite believe Keith’s side of it.

It’s Keith that says, “Oh, not like that, Shiro,” just as Lance says, “My sister’s picking us up.”

“Okay,” Shiro nods, and he and Keith seem to communicate in silence, a conversation Lance can’t begin to interpret. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Yeah.”

“If he tells you anything out of line,” Shiro says to Lance, “it’s because he’s drunk. He loves to talk out of his ass once he has vodka in his system.”

He doesn’t completely understand the warning, but Shiro’s already walking toward the motorcycle before Lance can ask him for an example. So, he just calls out, “He told me you’re a shit cook!”

“See?” Shiro turns to say, walking backwards now. “Completely out of line. I’m a _great_ cook.” 

Lance forgets his confusion completely as he has the privilege to see Takashi Shirogane himself hop on Keith’s red motorcycle and slip the helmet on over his head. Very coolly, he turns the key, starts it up, and drives away, engine sputtering behind him. Lance doesn’t know what to make of the sight, so he turns to Keith.

“I didn’t know he could ride a motorcycle.”

“He’s the one who taught me,” Keith says, shrugging. His eyes lift to the sky before he frowns. “I brought that to impress you, though, and this kind of defeats the point.”

He says it so nonchalantly that Lance doesn’t even register it at first. It isn’t until they’re in the back of Rachel’s car, Keith resting his head on the window with his eyes closed, that Lance realizes exactly that he said.

Maybe Shiro was right when he sent that text. He does know Keith better than anyone, after all.

        

He’s trying to see his room the way Keith does, but he can’t be sure what exactly is going through Keith’s mind. During the car ride over, he went from completely drunk to drunk and exhausted. Now, he just flits tired eyes around at the walls, grinning.

He at least seems to like the sight of the Cuban and bisexual pride flags and the _Jaws_ poster up on the wall. He doesn’t even seem to mind the _Kerberos_ poster Lance eventually put back up.

Lance sets his backpack next to the haphazard pile of notebooks and textbooks Rachel emptied out on the floor. “So, yeah, this is my room.”

“Hmm, I should put posters up,” Keith turns to him. “Shouldn’t I?”

Lance nods. “Yeah, your room is pretty lame.”

“It’s tasteful.”

“You have a total of two decorations in your whole apartment and they’re POP! Dolls.”

“Like I—I said,” Keith hops onto Lance’s bed, unlacing his boots and pulling them off. He slings them onto the carpet lazily. “Tasteful.”

Rachel’s in the kitchen, cleaning her Starbucks cup before the taste of vodka ‘taints the straw forever.’ She’s giving them a moment together, but soon she’ll be back in here to get ready for bed, and Lance still isn’t sure what’s going on.

“Let’s play a game,” Keith says, pulling his feet up and under him and nearly falling backwards. “Do you have Pictionary?”

“I have Pictionary,” Lance says. “But I don’t think you’d be very good right now.”

“I am an artiste, Lance.”

“Are you as good at art as you are at pool?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“I’ll be right back.” Lance goes out into the living room to get the game, even though he’s sure they won’t get very far at it. Rachel’s still scrubbing at the cup, and she lifts her eyebrows at him. After he gets the Pictionary box from under the coffee table, it takes a ton of convincing her to play with them. Eventually, with a yawn, she agrees.

But when Lance returns to his room, Keith is curled up over the comforter, his eyes closed and breathing even. He sets the game on his desk, and it’s then that he realizes he’s probably sleeping on the couch. He’s about to turn and leave Keith to sleep when Keith whines out his name.

His eyes are still closed as he says, somehow reading Lance’s mind, “You’re _not_ sleeping on the couch in your own house.”

He expects Keith to follow his statement with sitting up and moving to the couch himself, but he stays right where he is. He even curls up more and pulls himself up toward Lance’s pillow.

“That’s a twin bed, Keith.”

“So?”

Lance sighs. He’s still not _sure_ that Keith likes him, but if he’s going to insist like this, he’s not going to pass up sleeping in a bed with him. So as Rachel steps in to get pajamas from her dresser, Lance does the same.

“He knocked out?” Rachel asks as she slides her drawer shut.

“Yeah.”

“Good,” she says. She turns to change in the bathroom, pulling the bedroom door shut behind her. “I’m exhausted.”

He steps into a pair of pajama pants and slowly walks over to where Keith’s curled up. His hair is falling into his face, cheeks still red from the alcohol, and Lance realizes he’s more of an angel than Shiro is, by far.

Keith must sense his presence. His eyes open halfway and he looks up at Lance. “I’ll even—” he yawns. “I’ll even turn and go against the wall, so you can have all the room in the world,” he says, and then does exactly that.

So, this is happening.

Lance lifts the covers and slides under, and Keith, eyes still closed, manages to get himself under as well. The lights are still on, but Keith fully passes out almost immediately. Lance lies still, his back to Keith, with no sign of falling asleep himself.

He hears Rachel turn off the light in the bathroom and soon she comes into their room in her pajamas. She lifts an eyebrow at him, to which he very slowly shrugs. He tries to relax while she shuts door, turns off the bedroom light, and gets into her own bed.

But minutes pass, and with Keith very cutely snoring beside him, he still can’t sleep. Their backs are just too close, almost touching, and he can’t breathe, let alone sleep.

“Rachel,” he whispers eventually.

“Hmm?”

He decides to speak in Spanish, as quietly as he can, just in case Keith is somehow still able to hear him. “I think he likes me.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Rachel responds, in Spanish too.

“I—” he starts, but stops there. He doesn’t know what he was going to say.

He hears Rachel’s sheets rustling, and when he opens his eyes to look at her, he sees her reaching her arm out across the space between their beds. He reaches his own out and grabs it, and she squeezes.

“You deserve it,” she says.

His twin’s reassurance is enough to help him start to fall asleep. He’s almost there when Keith turns, slinging his arm over Lance’s torso. Lance’s eyes snap back open, but soon, he relaxes again.

This time may be different, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's be friends!  
> [TWITTER](http://www.twitter.com/stephclaires)  
> [ART INSTA](http://www.instagram.com/literatidraws)  
> Also, I'm currently in the process of writing some bonus scenes for this that are the Adashi scenes we don't see entirely from Lance's or Keith's POV. Follow my Twitter to see where to find those!! :D


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Keith lets some walls down, but it might be one too many.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bro I edited this chapter like four times before I could be satisfied I'm really struggling with my mental health and it makes me feel super detached which makes it hard to tell if it's good BUT I hope you guys enjoy!! just a few more chapters left hehe

**SATURDAY, APRIL 20**

  
Keith blinks heavy eyes open the next morning to find that everything is exactly as it should be. Lance is beside him on his back, snoring quietly with one arm bent above his head, and Keith is curled up against him, his head on Lance’s chest and an arm slung over Lance’s stomach. Their legs are a tangled heap beneath the comforter.

Lance’s opposite arm is around him, the tips of his fingers just barely brushing against his back. It’s everything he always wished for without realizing it. Some part of him has always wanted to be touched, in any possible way, by Lance McClain.

He tilts his head up to see Lance asleep, perfect lips parted and pouting. He only catches a glimpse, though, before Lance stirs awake. He meets Keith’s eye, and his tired pout turns into a smile.

Keith finds himself grinning back automatically, like a reflex.

“Morning, lightweight,” Lance says, voice cracking.

“So, it’s either mullet or lightweight, huh?” he yawns, stretching his legs out. His foot brushes against one of Lance’s.

Everything about this is right.

It would be so natural, so easy right now, for Keith to move up and press his lips to his. To have his first real, adult kiss, and many more following it. It just makes sense.

Until he realizes that can’t happen. Keith’s sleepy haze suddenly lifts, and everything about this is actually very wrong.

The brief moment of bliss disappears, and he is no longer in heaven. Instead, Keith is sweating, still in his jeans. His head is pounding, his mouth tastes stale, and he should not be here no matter how much he wants to stay forever.

“I’m just that good at giving people nicknames,” Lance chuckles.

He’ll allow himself one more minute here before he has to put an end to it. Before he has to leave, so he doesn’t do something stupid. “Can’t I be something cool, like samurai?” he asks.

“Samurai,” Lance repeats. He lifts his hand from Keith’s back and soon Keith feels his fingers running through his hair. “I’ll think about it.”

His eyes start to fall shut again, and he finds himself leaning into Lance’s touch.

He can’t.

He startles up, and Lance jerks his hand away. If he gave himself a full minute, he’d take an hour. Lance sits up too, and Keith refuses to look at him, to see his confused and most likely hurt expression.

“Just, um,” he starts, patting his pockets for his phone. “What time is it?”

Lance leans over to check his own phone, which is plugged in on the bedside table he shares with Rachel. God, his hair looks so good, all curly and mussed up from sleep. “6:27.”

When Keith finally gets his phone out, it’s at 7% battery, and he has a single text from Allura. Nothing urgent. But he widens his eyes and lets out a tiny groan as though she’d texted him 70 times.

“I have to be at Shiro’s in an hour,” he lies and climbs over Lance to scramble out of bed. He’s not sure if it’s a believable amount of scrambling until he quite literally can’t find his left shoe and has to crouch down and search for it.

“Your car is on Beland,” Lance says, just as he finds it. Shit. He’d forgotten about that; parts of last night are still patchy. All he remembers past the second game of pool are Lance’s wine-stained lips and his coming out born from the urge to kiss them. Somehow, he thought he’d driven his motorcycle back here last night.

He pulls his shoe out from underneath the bed and pops back up. When he finally looks at Lance, Lance has his knees curled up to his chest and his chin resting on them.

“I can take you to it,” he says, clearing his throat. “It’s not super far.”

“No,” Keith says, and he says it a little too quickly. Lance pulls back, eyebrows coming together. “I mean, I’m really hungover. I should just walk, so I can get some fresh air.”

He tugs his missing boot on and hops on one foot to tighten the laces.

“Are you sure?” Lance asks, just as dizziness overtakes Keith and he falls back onto Rachel’s bed. She’s not there, at least. Fresh air probably _would_ do him good.

“Yeah, I never take Kosmo for walks anymore, so I could probably use the exercise too,” he tries to laugh.

“But will you still make it to Shiro’s on time?”

“It’ll be fine,” he says. “It’s Saturday. You should go back to sleep. Don’t you have finals next week?”

This makes Lance’s worried features soften, and he smiles. Keith’s said something right, at last. Never mind the fact that it took twelve excuses to get there.

“I _could_ use more sleep,” Lance says. “But you’ll let me know when you make it back? When should I come and let Kosmo out?”

“I’ll text you,” Keith nods. He grabs his biker jacket off of Lance’s desk chair and slips it on. “And I’ll run him out before we go anywhere, so you can probably come around 11.”

“Okay,” Lance says, and he lets his knees fall back down. He pulls the covers back up over him but stays sitting up. He looks like he’s about to insist on driving again, so Keith cuts him off before he does.

“Get some rest,” he says. As he grabs his keys off the bedside table, he fights the urge to kiss Lance goodbye. He backs up, tapping his foot on the floor before giving Lance a quick wave and disappearing.

Rachel’s in the bathroom when he passes, listening to some broadway soundtrack and probably getting ready for work. Keith hurries past the doorway with his head down before she can offer to drive him too.

That would quite possibly be worse than Lance taking him. She’d ask questions, give him suggestive looks. He slips out of the apartment without a sound and, thankfully, makes it safely outside.

The walk doesn’t do as much for his migraine as he’d hoped; it doesn’t even clear his head. He likes Lance, way more than he did when he was just a picture on his phone, and spending time with him just makes the whole thing harder.

But he wants to spend time with him. He wants this to happen, but it can’t. Hiding something from a boyfriend is much worse offense than hiding it from a random guy, or even a friend.

Shiro’s in the middle of his six-step skincare routine when Keith storms into his apartment. The faucet shuts off just as the door shuts behind Keith, and Shiro comes out of the bathroom dabbing at his face with a towel.

“Keith?” he asks, eyes peeking out over the towel. “My call time isn’t until 10 today.”

“I’m here seeking refuge from my brain,” Keith says, falling face first onto the couch. He stopped at home to take Kosmo out and feed him, and this past hour alone has been more than enough for him.

All he’s been able to think about is Lance. Lance and his natural, wavy hair. Lance and his laugh. Lance and his soft features while he slept. Lance and his dreams and goals and passions. Lance, Lance, Lance. It won’t shut up.

“You better not have said anything to him about Twitter,” Shiro says. It’s stern, but he says it while pulling what Keith knows is an eye mask out of the freezer. Shiro sits down on the back of Keith’s legs, making his knees buckle. “You’re always do dumb shit when you’re drunk.”

“I can’t take you seriously with that mask on,” Keith says without even looking. He’s watched this routine hundreds of times.

He squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself to focus on the present. His mind is trying to wander, making him think about how Lance probably has a skincare routine of his own. He probably has a frozen facemask too and looks much cuter than Shiro while wearing it.

Shiro hits the bottom of his foot, sending thoughts of Lance from his brain. “You could use it, with those dark circles of yours.”

“I told him I was gay,” Keith mumbles.

“What?” Shiro asks. Keith feels him shift and lean back into the cushions. “If you said skincare is gay, I hate to break it to you, but it’s not. And also, _you_ are.”

Keith lifts his head. “I said, I told him I was gay.”

This makes Shiro jump off of him. He pulls his mask up and lets it rest on his forehead, so he’s looking at Keith clearly and not through the tiny holes cut into it.

“Keith,” he says. “That’s huge.”

“I had to get idiot-drunk to do it.”

“Still,” Shiro says. Keith buries his face back into the couch. “You realize you’re letting someone besides me in, right? Even with just that one thing?”

“It shouldn’t be him,” Keith mumbles into the cushion.

This time, Shiro hears him loud and clear. “Why not? You look at him like he’s perfect.”

Keith huffs, turning his head to the side. Shiro still looks ridiculous, even with the frozen mask tightening his forehead instead of his eyes. His expression makes it clear he’s ready to give a brotherly lecture, but the sheer ridiculousness of the mask paired with Shiro’s hands on his hips makes it easier for Keith to keep going and complain.

“Because of _the DMs_ ,” he says, voice coming out all high and broken. “I can’t just build a relationship with him and pretend that never happened.”

“Are you sure you’re not using that as an excuse to keep your walls up?” Shiro asks. Finally, he strips the mask completely and lets it plop down on the coffee table. He’s giving Keith his signature worried, let-me-help-you look.

It’s a valid question, at least one that makes Keith take a step back from everything and think. But it doesn’t take long for him to come to a conclusion. He _wants_ to tear his walls down for Lance, but this secret is the biggest barrier, a sturdy divider that’s not supposed to come down. And for Lance, it should be all or nothing. That’s the problem.

“It’s not,” he says, so matter-of-fact that Shiro’s worry turns to confusion. “I didn’t think you’d be opposed to me keeping my distance. At least this time.”

“In other circumstances, I wouldn’t be, but this is your first love so let’s think about this,” Shiro says.

“I don’t lo—”

“You did a completely senseless thing, and we can’t change that—”

“Yes, thank you for rubbing that in.”

“ _But_ maybe we can do something to make it less terrible.”

“Like what?” Keith sits up on his elbows, tilting his head at him. “Erase his memory? Go back in time and start another timeline where this didn’t happen and just escape this one?”

Shiro purses his lips, crossing his arms. Keith isn’t seeing how any of this can be fixed in the slightest. It’s either tell Lance or keep it a secret. Those are the only two options, and one isn’t even a _real_ option. Not unless he wants to ruin everything for everyone.

“So, I could—I could be friends with him. Like, actually. And then it wouldn’t even matter,” Shiro says. “It would be like it was really me the whole time. We could put it behind us, and you could finally have a chance at a real relationship.”

“You don’t understand, Shiro,” Keith sits up fully then, crossing his legs under him. “He’s too _good._ I can’t hide things from him.”

“I don’t know,” Shiro sighs, and he actually starts to pace. “It’s obviously not the best situation. But the way you look at him—not to mention the way he looks at you— I don’t want you to miss out just because his face made you stupid the second you saw it.”

Keith tries to laugh, he does. But he can’t quite get himself to. The bottom line is still that he needs to keep his distance.

“The longer I lie,” he says, “the worse it’ll be when this plan or whatever becomes a disaster.”

“It won’t be a disaster,” Shiro says. “I can cover for you. He’s a cool guy, and you’re _you_ to him now. We really can put it behind us.”

“But what if the cover gets blown? What if—” Keith sighs. “I just don’t want to hurt him.”

“You won’t, okay? I’ll make sure of it,” Shiro says. “And he’s worth trying something, isn’t he?”

It’s easy for _Shiro_ to suggest. He’s the most at risk if anyone else finds out about the DMs, and the only stakes he has in Keith’s connection to Lance is seeing Keith in the happy relationship he thinks Keith deserves. He’ll never have to kiss Lance with the knowledge that he’s hiding something from him.

“I don’t know,” Keith says. “I mean, yes. But he’s also worth telling the truth to.”

“Just think about it.”

Shiro walks right up to Keith and places the ice-cold eye mask over his face. The elastic that keeps it in place makes a dull smack on the back of his head just as Shiro laughs.

“I have to get dressed,” he says. “You need this more than I do.”

Shiro runs off to his room, and Keith leaves the mask on, distracted by his phone buzzing with a text. Two, actually. One from Acxa and one from Lance.

He hates that he brightens even at the mere sight of Lance’s name, and he gets ahold of himself enough to open Acxa’s first. He has to squint through the eye-holes to read it.

 

**Acxa:**

> so, you and lance….

 

The text is accompanied by a dozen eye emojis and is definitely not an effective distraction from his feelings. Still, he focuses on responding to her instead of inevitably sending his stomach into a fit of somersaults by texting Lance.

 

**Keith:**

> just friends

> coworkers even

 

**Acxa:**

> didn’t look like coworkers to me

> you guys gave each other EYES all night

 

**Keith:**

> he thought you and I were gonna be a thing

 

**Acxa:**

> doesn’t he know I like girls?

> I thought he was smarter than that

 

**Keith:**

> he genuinely thought I was straight like I had to sit him down and tell him I was gay

 

**Acxa:**

> hahahah BIG YIKES

 

Keith lets himself open Lance’s text, then. It isn’t what he was expecting, and he’s not even quite sure what he was expecting.

 

**Lance:**

> are you Japanese like Shiro

> sorry if that’s offensive

> I assure you if I didn’t ask it would be much more offensive

 

**Keith:**

> I’m Korean

> shouldn’t you be asleep sir

 

**Lance:**

> well samurai I couldn’t sleep

 

A pause. And then,

 

> I was thinking about u

        

**Keith:**

> about whether I was Japanese?

 

**Lance:**

> no that’s for a surprise

> just about you in general

 

Oh. Keith audibly gasps. He starts to type out, “I can’t stop thinking about you either,” but thinks better of it and backspaces.

 

**Keith:**

>  a surprise?? :o

 

**Lance:**

> you’ll love it

> I hope

 

**Keith:**

> I will

 

Just then, his screen turns black, and it’s only then that he remembers he has to charge it. And yet, even without the text to look at, all he sees when he closes his eyes are the words “I was thinking about u.”

His cheeks are on fire, so hot the mask is no longer frozen.

-

 

Lance pulls himself up out of bed and makes his way to the kitchen. He’s feeling, officially, like he needs to do several cartwheels all the way down the hallway. He might.

Keith, Keith, Keith. Keith, with his soft and braidable hair. Keith, with his motorcycle and leather jacket and boots. Keith, with his strong arms, wrapped around Lance all night. He can’t stop thinking of him, and he doesn’t want to stop.

Rachel’s fallen asleep on the couch with another monologue in hand. She was awake even earlier than them, probably nervous for her audition later today. It’s huge, a Paramount blockbuster, and she thought her agent was pranking her when she told her she got the audition.

He tries to be as quiet as possible as he puts the tea kettle on the stove and lets himself get lost in his head again. He wonders what it would be like to wake up with Keith like that every day, to make him tea and breakfast. He could make him a tostada, maybe some eggs and potatoes, and let him pick from all of the different teas.

He wouldn’t think it was stupid that Lance collects tea. He’d find it charming. He’d wrap his arms around Lance’s waist from behind and look on over his shoulder while Lance ran through what was in each blend.

Rachel sits up before the tea kettle goes off, and Lance wonders if his thoughts are that loud.

“Is it weird that I’m not freaking out at all right now?” he asks her as she drags her feet into the kitchen and slaps the audition papers down on the table.

“What do you mean?” She asks, blinking away sleep as she sits down. “Did you make enough for me?”

“Por supuesto,” he says, and she grins. “And what I mean is, he bolted this morning and stopped texting me back. Is it weird that I sort of trust it’s not my fault?”

“I don’t think it’s weird,” she says, and he leans back against the counter, not even trying to hide his smile.

“He’s never—” he shakes his head, and the kettle starts to squeal. As he turns to take it off the heat, he says, “When I’m myself around him and he doesn’t freak out, I start to think that maybe everyone else was wrong. Like, I’ve just been with the wrong people and Keith’s _right._ ”

“You’ll never be too much or not enough for the right person,” Rachel repeats Shiro’s words back to him as she gets up to pick out her tea. She’s heard him repeating it to himself, whispering it under his breath as he does his morning routine or before he decides to text Keith first.

“Exactly,” Lance says. Rachel leans into him while she scoops a tablespoon of the blend into her strainer.

“Well, he definitely likes you,” she says. “I don’t think he was spooning you for eight hours as your friend.”

Lance stays leaning against the counter, too distracted now to put his tea together. Keith likes him. He _likes_ him. And this time is actually different. So different.  

        

**THURSDAY, APRIL 25**

 

But Lance’s confidence slowly dwindles as the week goes by. Somehow, Keith has been avoiding him while talking to him every day at the same time.

He’ll press his mouth into a barely-there smile, say hi, and offer coffee if he’s made it. He’ll stay for a while before heading out, even teasing Lance and making jokes sometimes. But there’s something off about it. Distant.

And Lance tries to tell himself that maybe that’s just his expectations talking. So Keith came out to him and they cuddled. That doesn’t necessarily mean they’re going to start dating all of a sudden. That’s what it means to him, but maybe not to Keith.

Keith’s definitely the type to take time being vulnerable and to take things slow. It took him getting drunk for him to even tell Lance his sexual preference, and that’s approximately all Lance knows about his personal life.

So, Lance takes a deep breath every morning and reminds himself that all he has to do is let Keith know he’s safe with him. That Lance is usually the one being judged, not the other way around.

Today, he takes several extra breaths and repeats Shiro’s affirmation a few times at his reflection. Keith’s surprise came in the mail yesterday, and he’s hopefully going to give it to him when he gets to the apartment. And if Keith doesn’t like it, if he thinks it’s weird or stupid, Lance doesn’t want to have a breakdown right in front of him.

He’s tucked them into a red gift bag with black tissue paper (Keith’s two favorite colors, he’s noticed. So, he knows a couple of things about him.) and he grabs it on his way out.

The entire drive to Keith’s apartment, he thinks of what to say when he gives it to him. He has a whole speech planned out, some lines cut and others rewritten, by the time he pulls into the parking lot.

But when he gets inside, and Keith opens the door for him, a gust of air pushes strands of his mullet back and Lance forgets everything he’s meant to say. As the door falls shut behind him, he simply extends the bag out for Keith to take. The only part of his speech he remembers to say is “hi.”

It almost feels like a peace offering now instead of a cute surprise like when he ordered it. It’s a way for Lance to say, “You’ve been distant, and you don’t have to be.” Hopefully Keith sees it that way.

“Is this the reason you asked me if I was Japanese?” Keith asks before even taking the tissue paper out. He holds the gift close to him with a smile. It’s a good start.

“Yeah,” Lance blushes. “I—Well, just open it and I’ll explain.”

Keith very carefully takes the tissue paper off the top and lets it fall to the floor. He eyes the bag and reaches in, first pulling out the rainbow Pride flag and then the Korean flag. Lance holds his hands behind his back and watches Keith’s expression with caution. It changes from confusion to wonder to something that looks like a mix of happiness and disbelief.

“They’re to decorate your room with,” Lance says.

“Right,” Keith looks up at him. His eyes are glistening, almost like he’s about to cry. He doesn’t let himself, though. One day, maybe, he’ll feel comfortable enough to. “Like yours.”

“I’m surprised you remembered.”

“I saw it in the morning,” Keith laughs, “when I was sober.”

“I could have bypassed the whole country flag one,” Lance explains, pointing to it, “but I love my Cuban flag. I don’t know, it reminds me of my home and my family.”

Keith takes in a deep breath, not unlike the ones Lance has taken every morning this week. And then he looks at him, really looks at him, like he’s considering something. His mouth opens and closes, and if he didn’t look so emotional, Lance would think he might drop the flags and kiss him. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

“My dad actually—Well, he’s the one I get my Korean genes from,” Keith starts, voice breaking. “And he passed away when I was young. So, this is—it means a lot, actually.”

He looks like he’s going to say more, and Lance is ready to listen. But instead he blinks hard, slips the flags back into the bag, and puts it on the kitchen table. He grabs his keys from beside it and taps his pockets to make sure he has everything, all without looking at Lance.

“I have to go, but,” he takes a step, and finally they meet eyes again, “thank you, really.”

Keith actually goes in for a hug then, which shouldn’t feel like a huge deal considering his head was on Lance chest a mere few days ago, but it’s everything. Lance wraps his arms around him tight, and unlike the cuddling, which only happened because of Keith’s drunkenness, this actually feels like the first time of many.

Keith gives him a tiny little wave before leaves, just like he did before leaving on Saturday. It might be his favorite thing Keith does.  

“Well, Kosmo,” Lance says to the dog, who’s sniffing the stray tissue paper and pushing it around with his nose. “I’d consider that a success.”

 

-

 

Before Keith even puts the key in the ignition, he leans back against his headrest and brings a shaky hand to his forehead. He doesn’t want to cry, especially because Shiro will immediately be able to spot the puffiness and redness around his eyes. But he can’t control it.

The tears just fall like they don’t belong in his body at all, like they’ve fought for decades and are finally free. He sniffles and squeezes his eyes shut and he hopes that Lance doesn’t take Kosmo out right now because that would be really awkward.

It isn’t just the reminder of his dad, a man he knew only until he was 12, whose culture and background left Keith’s life when he did. It’s the fact that there’s this guy he feels compelled to talk about that with. He didn’t even tell Shiro about his dad; his mom told the Big Brother director who told Shiro.

Lance not only gets him thoughtful gifts, but he immediately gives Keith the impression that if he were to let his walls down for even a second, he’d run in and scoop him up and listen to anything he could possibly say. And he’d listen like it mattered.

So maybe Keith _is_ scared, after all. Not of having someone like that, but of how much he wants it now that it’s right in front of him. And of how much it would suck to lose it, and how much it would suck to never have it at all. He’s scared of everything.

Keith wipes the tears from his face with the back of his hand and makes sure there’s not more coming before he starts the car. When he gets to set, like he expected, he still looks like a nervous wreck.

He knocks on the door to Shiro’s trailer, and immediately there’s another reason to cry. Shiro shouts, most likely to Adam, “Hashbrown tiiiiime!” which Keith most certainly forgot to stop at McDonalds to get.

But as Shiro excitedly throws open the door, Keith doesn’t even have time to get the words out before Shiro’s face falls in concern. “What happened?”

Adam pokes his head out from behind Shiro and frowns. They step back to let Keith in, and at this point, Keith doesn’t even care that Adam is there. He starts crying all over again.

“I’ll do it,” Keith blubbers to Shiro on his way up the trailer stairs. “You can be his friend and I’ll—I just like him too much. This is ridiculous.”

They let him sit on the couch, and Shiro gets him a bottle of water from his fridge. He gulps it down easily, pushing more tears away.

“I need to be with him,” he hiccups. “I just can’t—I can’t stay away. I’ve been trying but—He’s too good and this is killing me.”

Shiro sits beside him and wraps an arm around his shoulder, and Keith tries to keep his breathing even, so he doesn’t have to do the whole technique with him again like last time.

“It’s okay that you like him that much,” Shiro says. “You know that, right?”

Adam stands awkwardly in front of them before Keith feels, head in his hands, Adam’s weight shift the couch beside him.

“I know, I just—” Keith starts, “I don’t know why I had to do something so stupid to ruin it before I even knew him.”

“You learned from it, though,” Adam says slowly, like he’s making sure it’s the right thing to say. “And, well, I mean—you respect him. You know him now. You can just try to do better.”

Keith lifts his head to nod slowly, taking in a deep breath and trying to accept it for himself. He’s ready, he thinks. He can forgive himself and move on. He can let Shiro be Lance’s friend for real like he suggested and let that be enough to make up for it, if that means being able to let Lance in.

“Here, give me your phone,” Shiro says, and Keith sits up to get his phone out of his pocket. He doesn’t have to tell Shiro his passcode, and he knows without even looking that Shiro is getting Lance’s number from him.

They are kind of similar, the two of them, Keith reasons. And it’s not like Shiro will feel forced to be his friend; he’d have been his friend in the long run anyway, if they had just met normally and ended up dating. This doesn’t have to be a huge guilt trip for himself; at least he was catfishing as someone close to him, at least he didn’t flirt and give Lance any expectations between him and Shiro. But he still can’t help thinking of Lance and feeling _bad_ about what he did.

“You know, we’re—we were going to ask if you’d cover for us, so we could go on a real date,” Adam says while Shiro clicks around. “Like just get us in somewhere without anyone being suspicious. But maybe you could bring Lance along.”

“Oh my god,” Shiro says, looking up from the phone at them. “Like a double date.”

“There’d be less pressure,” Adam says.

Keith just shrugs, another tear escaping him. A date is too much to think about right now; he still has to process that he’s about to let anything happen at all.

“You’re not texting him that, are you?” he asks when his phone falls back into his lap and Shiro starts typing out a message on his own. Another tear escapes without warning.

“No, of course not,” he says. “I’ll leave that to you. Just—friends should have friends’ numbers, right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Keith says. Adam gets up from the couch, and Keith lies his head down in the spot he left open. He’s still not entirely convinced about this, but maybe he can get convinced soon.

Soon enough to ask Lance out, maybe.

Shiro stands too, pocketing his phone. “We have to shoot now. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Keith feels himself nod. Now, at least, he’s no longer crying. Just a few sniffles here and there. Just as Shiro reaches for the door, he asks, “Can we get Korean food tonight?”

Shiro nods heavily, voice soft as he says, “Sure, Keith.” He knows without Keith having to say anything, and that – this whole moment – is precisely why he’s his best friend.

        

Keith is feeling lighter by the time he leaves the Korean restaurant with Shiro. It’s partially because nobody stopped to ask Shiro for a picture or autograph today, but mostly because his stomach is full of doraji muchim and gamja jorim and bibimbap for the first time in a long time.  

He’s resolved to let things happen with Lance and try not to expect the worst. Shiro might have said “you deserve good things” to him enough times throughout dinner, pointing his chopsticks at him, for it to eventually sound like the truth.

He’s grabbed kimchi jjigae for Lance, with some of the side dishes they received saved for him too. He’s going to let this happen. He’s going to open himself up, let his walls down, and pray Lance never finds out about the DMs.

It isn’t until he gets out of his car, already locking his own car in the parking spot beside him, that his stomach starts to turn.

He’s not exactly scared, but he’s coming to the realization that this is yet another thing he’s sharing with Lance today. Keith could have gone the rest of his life without telling him he was inspired to get Korean food today.

It’s simple and should be exciting, sharing food with a guy he likes. He’s even done it with Lance before. But most of the time, letting someone know they impacted your day makes you vulnerable, even if something they did just inspired you to get a certain kind of food. He hates that, but he still wants to do it.

“Let me know how he likes it,” Shiro says when they reach their floor, sliding his key into the lock. Keith nods, walking past him toward his own apartment, food warm in his hands.

He tucks the bag of takeout underneath his arm to unlock the door. Kosmo runs right up to him, wagging his tail and sniffing at the food. At the kitchen table, Lance is laser-focused and squinting at his computer screen, clicking around with earbuds in.

He doesn’t notice Keith at first, and Keith stands in the doorway watching him do his thing. Lance bites his lip and shifts in his chair, pressing some shortcut on his keyboard. It’s…well, ‘hot’ is the only word Keith can think of right now.

Lance’s obliviousness becomes so prolonged, though, that Keith creeps up behind him slowly without him noticing. He slaps his free hand on Lance’s stiff shoulder and Lance yelps, whipping around. He pulls his earbuds from his ears and lets them dangle from his laptop.

“Jesus!” he relaxes only slightly. “I thought you were a ghost.”

“Wait, so did you think I was Jesus or a ghost?”

Lance leans against the chair, chin resting on the back of it. He looks up at Keith and says, “Both.”

“I can be your angel or your devil,” he sing-songs, and Lance snorts, shaking his head and turning around. Keith returns his hand to Lance’s shoulder and squeezes. “You’re tense,” he observes aloud.

“It’s this final,” Lance says. “I have to edit this whole 15-minute-long video by tomorrow morning and I’m just barely halfway done.”

Keith checks the time on the microwave: 8:53 p.m.

“We didn’t even finish filming until yesterday,” Lance says, spinning back to face him again, “because my group is a bunch of _idiots.”_

He looks like he’s about to start panicking, like the work itself was the only thing keeping him from spiraling. Before he can start, Keith tries to joke, “I don’t have to run through Shiro’s breathing technique again with you, do I?”

It does what it’s supposed to – distract Lance – but instead of making him smile, he just looks confused. “What?”

“The breathing thing,” he says. “I walked you through it last time.”

“I don’t remember—” Lance lifts his eyes to think, but quickly recovers. “I mean, I know what you’re talking about! Shiro taught me it too.”

_Right_. Day one of putting the DMs behind him and Keith’s already messing up. He tries to shake it off. He hasn’t given himself away just yet. He _won’t_ give himself away.

“I don’t know why I thought I did,” he says, and Lance shrugs. It’s easy and without a hint of suspicion, allowing Keith to relax. “But anyway, you should take a break.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

Keith takes a step to look over Lance’s shoulder, and Lance returns his gaze to the computer screen. On it is an application unfamiliar to Keith, with several layers of video and audio. A quarter of the screen is taken up by a preview of the finished product; right now, it’s paused on a zoomed-in still of an eye.

“How long have you been working on this?”

“For like five hours,” Lance says. “Since I got back after _failing_ my production sound theory exam.”

“Lance, you can take a twenty-minute break,” Keith tries, and he holds up the bag from the Korean restaurant. “I brought you food.”

This makes Lance brighten, and something tells Keith he hasn’t eaten since this morning or maybe even since last night. He sets the food down beside Lance’s laptop, and Lance lifts his computer to move into the living room and away from any sort of food damage. He hurries back, and as soon as Keith opens the bag, Kosmo jumps right up to paw at Keith’s leg.

“If you think you can eat kimchi, Kos,” Keith says, “you’re certifiably insane.”

“Kimchi,” Lance repeats as Keith pulls the styrofoam to-go box from the bag. He peers at it, reaching over Keith to open it and see for himself.

“It’s—I got you Korean food,” Keith says quickly, looking away but peaking up to glance at him. Lance is sort of glowing now, a soft smile of understanding on his face.

“I’ve never had Korean food before.”

“You—you’ve never even been to a k-barbecue?”

“No. Well, Rachel and I usually just eat at home.”

“Fair enough,” Keith takes the box from the table and hands it to him. He’s more excited than nervous now, but he tries to keep his face and voice even. “So that’s kimchi jjigae, it’s like a stew with cabbage and I think the place we got it from puts tofu in it. It’s really spicy so—I figured you’d like it.”

Lance wanders into the kitchen to get a spoon and immediately takes a bite. He seems satisfied, maybe, chewing with his eyes closed. Keith reaches into the bag to pull out one of the side dishes, and when he looks to Lance again, he’s beside him, leaning in like he’s actually interested to hear more. Keith’s first instinct is to stop, but he clears his throat and opens the next container.

“This is, uh—I don’t know what it’s called but it’s glass nood—” he snaps his fingers, “Oh, it’s called japchae. And then there’s,” he takes the next box out and opens it, “doraji muchim. It’s like a spicy root salad. I didn’t save you any of the gamja jorim because it’s my favorite, sorry.”

“It’s sweet, isn’t it?” Lance asks.

“It’s glazed potatoes, so yeah.”

He laughs but soon stops, glancing between all of the leftovers. He reaches out to touch the boxes, pushing them together to see just how much there is. “Wait, this is all for me then?”

“Yeah, I ate there with Shiro.”

“Keith Kogane, you are the nicest human,” he says, and Keith doesn’t know what to say. Or even how to feel.

They end up in the living room, Lance with the to-go box of kimchi jjigae resting atop his crisscrossed legs on the couch. He wipes his runny nose with the back of his hand and takes in a breath. His computer rests on the table in front of him and he stares at it. Somehow, he’s figuring out his editing plans without even playing the video back.

Keith reaches out to pick a noodle from the japchae box and throws it into his mouth as Lance eats another spoonful of kimchi.

“You weren’t kidding when you said this was spicy,” Lance says, wiping his forehead now. He might actually be sweating. “Like, it’s good as shit, but…holy hell. I’ve had some spicy stuff and I wasn’t prepared for this.”

“Yeah, my dad used to make it for me with, like, 10 percent of the usual spice,” Keith says. “No way I could handle that.”

“And you thought I could?”

“You’re the one who puts hot sauce on cupcakes.”

Lance takes another spoonful. His face is red, but he’s handling it. Every so often, he’ll get a bite of doraji muchim to cleanse his pallet, forgetting that that dish is also spicy. Keith had to get him a glass of milk.

“Tell me about your dad,” Lance says, leaning back. He sucks in more air, but goes in for another bite.

Keith, on the couch opposite him, crosses his arms instinctively. He tries to ease up and reminds himself that he wants to tell Lance things, even if it’s things he’s never really told anyone before.

“Well, his name was Tae-min,” he says slowly, “and we always used to make fun of him because the English name he picked was Tex and we lived in Texas.”

Lance grins. “Do you have a Korean name, then?”

“My dad would call me ki-moon,” Keith says, “But Keith is what’s on my birth certificate. He’d call me that because I wanted to be an astronaut basically my entire childhood. He was always saying I could do anything.”

Anything. Now here he is, a personal assistant. He grabs another japchae noodle and stuffs it in his mouth, so he doesn’t have to say more. Letting his dad down is another conversation for another day.

“My mamá’s like that too,” Lance says. “She’s always saying the only thing that’ll stop me is my doubt.”

Keith stares at his hands, unsure of what to say next. He’ll talk about his dad, but his mom is a whole different beast he’s not even remotely prepared to talk about. So he just nods at his lap, not saying a word.

It isn’t until an hour or two later that either of them really speak. Lance barely took a break, soon replacing the kimchi container in his lap with his computer, but every time he touches the food instead of his laptop can count as one.

Keith has his sketchbook in his own lap, twisting his pencil around in his hand, and Lance takes a stray bite of doraji muchim. He seems to hesitate, chewing slowly.

“Do you think—” he starts, pauses, and then starts again. “Do you think I could stay here tonight? The ride home is a whole half hour I could be working on this.”

Keith’s head juts back reflexively, unprepared, but he quickly nods so Lance doesn’t think the answer is anything different. “Yeah, of course. I did say you could whenever.”

“Thanks,” Lance grins, and another hour of silence passes. Eventually, Lance sets his laptop back down with a sharp exhale. He looks to Keith and does a double take.

“You can go to bed, you know.”

Keith keeps his eyes on the sketchbook. He’s trying to draw the monster that was on the wing of the plane in the “Nightmare at 20,000 Feet” episode of the Twilight Zone from memory. It’s not looking at all like he wants it to.

“I’ll stay up with you,” he says, erasing a line and trying again.

He can feel Lance’s eyes on him still, making him finally look up. Lance quickly looks away, and Keith looks away too.  

He goes back to editing, pushing his earbuds back in and beginning to rhythmically click on his keypad again. Keith can feel him glancing at him, though, and eventually he pops an earbud back out to say, “I’m…leaving next Friday.”

“Leaving?” Keith asks.

“For the summer,” Lance says. “I’m going home to Rhode Island. Is that—I mean is that okay? I’ll be back in late-August.”

“Yeah, I’ll just…deal without you for a few months.”

On the surface, he’s talking about Kosmo, but he can see on Lance’s face that Lance knows he means more than that. Keith can feel the pressure now. It’s more pressing, suddenly, to get the nerve to start something before Lance leaves. He can’t spend four months in limbo, going over in his head whether this is a good idea. He wants Lance, and he has to make a solid decision soon.

It isn’t until 2 a.m. that Lance finishes his project, snapping his laptop shut with a surrendering sigh and “good enough.” Even that much later, Keith’s brain is still reeling.

It leads him to set up the couch for Lance without a second thought, to put every single wall back up on accident. He brings an extra pillow from his bed and a blanket from the hall closet out, keeping his eyes off Lance the whole time.

Lance is leaving, and he has to do something, but instead he’s frozen. Just going through the motions.

In his room, he flings his sketchbook onto his nightstand. Eventually, he’s in bed, tossing and turning in his boxers and a big, faded Jonas Brothers t-shirt. In the dark, the two flags Lance not only got for him, but hung up while he was on set today stare back at Keith. Lance had this whole project to do, and he still took the time to do that for him. It makes Keith want to cry all over again.

Lance is just out there being great, in the pair of pajamas Keith leant him, sleeping on his couch. When Keith knows exactly what it feels like to sleep in the same bed as him. When Keith knows how good it feels to wake up curled into him.

Lance didn’t even bat an eye when Keith was setting the couch up for him. Not for a second did he look disappointed or like he expected differently, which makes the whole thing worse, in a way. Worse because Keith didn’t deny him a spot in his own bed because he felt pressured, he denied him it because he has no clue what he’s doing.

But Lance should be here beside him. He has to do something.

Lance is sitting up on his phone, legs tucked under the fuzzy blanket Shiro’s mom gifted Keith several years ago, when Keith finally bucks up and comes out of his room. He thought hours had passed while he struggled to find enough peace to sleep, but it’s apparently only been 30 minutes.

Lance gives Keith a completely conspicuous once-over before looking away and trying to pass it off like it didn’t happen. This makes Keith forget whatever it was he was about to say.

“Shiro and Adam are going on a date next week and want me to cover for them,” he blurts out instead. “Do you want to come with me?”

The way the question comes out, all high-pitched and flighty, makes Lance’s eyebrows come together. He brings his hand up to scratch his cheek. Still, he hesitates before asking his own question. “Like a…double date?”

“Um,” Keith starts, pulling his shirt down more. “Yeah.”

Lance sits up straight, then nods. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

Keith turns and hurries back to his room in two long steps. He jumps into bed and pulls the covers up over his burning face, breathing hard.

Lance is still not beside him, and he’s somehow even more on edge than before.

 

**MONDAY, APRIL 29**

 

A date. A date. A _date._ Lance is nervous, and he has to do something with his hands. School is over for the year, finally, and the only thing he can do is lie here in Keith’s apartment and think about what it means. School is over. A date.

He has a date approximately four days before he goes home. He’s determined to kiss Keith before the day is over, but that opens a whole new can of worms of how and when and where. They’ll be with Shiro and Adam the whole time.

To preoccupy himself, he goes to Keith’s room and slides open his closet. It’s full of black, white, and red, with several shirts covered in dog hair Keith’s given up trying to remove.  Right at the front is his target, the biker jacket, and he pulls it off the hanger and slips it on over his blue t-shirt.

The date, Keith told him, isn’t meant to look like one. He had to dress as casually as possible, which made getting dressed this morning a lot easier than he thought. He’s in his usual get-up, approximately zero thought put into it, and he has an unquenched thirst for dress-up.

He looks down at himself, at the leather hanging over him, and immediately starts to laugh. He looks cool, _too_ cool, and he doesn’t know how Keith handles looking like a badass greaser all of the time.

Lance is about to take a selfie to show Keith when a knock at the door makes him drop his phone. Kosmo starts barking as he scrambles to pick it up and, he guesses, talk to whoever it is. Letting a maintenance worker in is a more solid distraction than creeping through Keith’s wardrobe. This, if anything, has made him think about kissing Keith more.

When he opens the door, the person in front of him is a lot more famous and with much broader shoulders than he was expecting. It’s Shiro, just casually standing there with his sunglasses perched atop his head. Lance very quickly registers that this is his first time ever seeing him without Keith or a crowd there as a buffer and starts to stammer.

“Hey,” Shiro says as soon as he sees Lance. Lance blinks.

“Hi, Shiro,” he says, “Keith isn’t—”

“He’s running errands for me before we go anywhere,” Shiro interrupts. “I thought you and I could hang out.”

“Um, sure.”

Lance pockets his phone, slipping out the door and making sure Kosmo doesn’t run out behind him. He’d forgotten, in the midst of finals and Keith and this date, that Shiro had texted him, that it almost seemed like he wanted to be friends.

He follows him to Shiro’s apartment, which is even more extravagant in the daylight. Sunlight pours through the windows and reflects off of the chandelier in the kitchen. It’s quieter, too, without several other members of the Hollywood elite in the living room.

Shiro drops his keys on the counter and goes right for the fridge. “Want anything?”

“I’m good, thanks,” Lance says, still glancing around. He scratches the back of his neck and, feeling the leather sleeve rub against it, widens his eyes. He’s still in the jacket.

Shiro shuts the fridge with a clementine in hand and starts to peel it. Lance stuffs his hands in the jacket’s pockets and tries to look casual, like this is actually his jacket and he belongs in it and he wasn’t just weirdly looking through Keith’s closet. Shiro catches on immediately.

“That’s Keith’s, isn’t it?” he asks as the smell of citrus fills the air.

“Yeah, I was just—”

“See, I straight up told you that you wouldn’t be alone forever,” Shiro cuts him off in the middle of his attempt at an explanation. He waves his hand over the garbage can – motion sensored, of course – and tosses the orange peel in the trash.

He thinks Keith gave it to him, like a football player giving a girl his letterman jacket. Lance can live with that; he’ll just have to sneak back to Keith’s and put it in his closet before they leave.

“I told Keith the same thing, that he’d find someone,” he says, chewing. “I’m sort of cupid, in a way.”

“Yeah, your advice to both of us brought us together,” Lance laughs. “Makes sense.”

“Glad I could be of service.”

Shiro sits at the table to continue eating, and Lance pulls a chair out to sit across from him. “You know,” he says, scooting in, “Rachel and Matt aren’t even a thing. It was just that one night, and now they act like nothing happened.”

“So not only will you not have a beard and emotionless eyes,” Shiro says, “there won’t even be a wedding at all.”

“I guess I had nothing to worry about.”

They spend the next hour just talking about college and Hollywood and different aspects of each other’s lives. Lance can’t get over how close it is to his dream of discussing the meaning of life with Shiro over tea. There’s no tea, and he’s currently telling Shiro about how Rachel thought he and Adam were a publicity stunt, but it’s close enough.

“Is that my jacket?” is the first thing out of Keith’s mouth when he sees Lance. He forgot he was wearing it, again, distracted by the actual friend-to-friend, real life conversation with Shiro.  

Keith’s in the entry way, joined by Adam, and he has several bags of groceries and something from the dry cleaners in his hands. Instead of looking annoyed or creeped out like expected, he’s just gaping at Lance. Lance hops out of his chair.

Shiro greets Adam with a kiss, a sight Lance still hasn’t gotten used to. He wishes he could do the same to Keith, especially with the way Keith looks like he wants to do it too.

“I was going to send you a selfie,” he explains, “but then Shiro stopped by and I forgot to take it off.”

“You look—I mean,” he shakes his head. “What the hell.”

“Ridiculous, right?”

“If by ridiculous you mean incredible,” Keith says. He sets the groceries and dry cleaning down and crosses one leg over the other, still standing in the doorway. Adam and Shiro have moved to the living room, talking about whatever movie it is they’re all about to see.

Keith has on a red flannel open over one of his many black t-shirts, and Shiro’s stylist must have done his hair today. It’s braided down the side of his head and secured in a ponytail. He’s wearing his fingerless gloves, like usual, but he starts to undo the velcro securing one with his opposite hand. “You have to complete the ensemble,” he says.

The gloves dangle from his grasp as he holds them out for Lance to take. Lance slides them on over his hands and immediately feels ten times more ridiculous and ten times more like a badass.

Keith unconsciously licks his bottom lip, nodding. “Bitchin’.”

“Any chance you’ll let me drive your motorcycle now?”

“Not a chance in hell.”

 

They’re both in the back of Shiro’s BMW this time, and Keith has one boot-clad foot up, his ankle resting on his knee. He’s shaking his foot like he’s nervous, which Lance is still struggling to comprehend. He doesn’t think he’s ever been on a date where the _other_ person was nervous. They’ve always seemed to have the upper hand.

But as he taps his foot himself, he can already tell that, somehow, he and Keith are on an equal playing field. He’s still wearing the jacket and the gloves, which might be part of it.

Adam and Shiro are in the front, being effortlessly cute as usual. They’re holding hands in the center console while Shiro drives and Adam tells some story from his childhood, using grand gestures with his spare hand.

In fifteen minutes, he’s going to be photographed with them – Hollywood’s secret power couple. Apparently, there’s always paparazzi by the movie theater they’re planning to go to. Being around them is becoming normal, but that’s something he doesn’t think he could ever get used to.

“You’re not usually at pap locations with Shiro, are you?” he asks, and Keith startles, whatever’s going through his head coming to a halt. As Keith shakes his head, Lance tries to put his best suave face on, “I would have remembered seeing you. I follow like five Shiro update accounts.”

Keith laughs, a whole throwing-his-head-back type of laugh, which wasn’t what Lance was expecting, but he’ll take it.

“I…” Keith starts, the corners of his mouth still quirked up in a grin. He wipes his mouth, trying to hide it. “I love how big of a fanboy you are.”

“Most people think I’m annoying,” Lance admits.

“I just love how much you love things,” Keith says. He won’t look at him when he says it, just stares out the window as palm trees and other cars pass. “It’s…Well, you don’t meet very many people that passionate.”

“No one loves Shiro as much as me though,” Adam says.

“Alright, Adam, let’s not be gay,” Keith says, reaching over the seat to pat Adam on the shoulder.

“We’re all gay in this vehicle,” Shiro says.

“I’m bisexual,” Lance reminds him, and Shiro waves his hand at him.

“So, we’re three gays and a bisexual,” he says. “Let me hear Adam say he loves me.”

Shiro parallel parks a block or two down from the theater like a god, and Lance has to wonder if Keith was telling the truth when he said Shiro sucked at cooking. It doesn’t seem like he can be bad at anything.

Adam grabs his arm before he can get out. “We don’t have to do this,” he says, softly. “We can go somewhere with less…attention.”

“No, we’ve been waiting to see this,” Shiro says. “As far as they know, we’re a group of friends. It’ll be—I’m fine.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m positive,” Shiro says, opening the door before Adam can stop him again.

 There are more paparazzi than Lance was expecting. He was picturing them just sitting outside of the movie theater itself, waiting for someone famous to come. Apparently, this is a movie theater all of the celebrities in L.A. go to. Instead, they’re all down the street, walking and waiting.

Each one readies their camera as soon as they notice Shiro and Adam, who are no longer holding hands and are standing a generous distance apart. The cameras click, click, click, and each photographer throws different comments and questions out: one tells Adam he loves what they’re doing with the new season, another asks Shiro what his opinion is on some random celebrity drama.

It’s even more chaotic than it seems in the random Hollywood Fix videos he sees on YouTube. They all have to push their way around the paparazzi and some fans notice them and start screaming, running up to them.

“Hey guys,” is all Shiro says. He keeps walking, head down and sunglasses on. This all used to seem so normal. Two months ago, he would have done anything to be a part of this for a single day, just to get a photo with Shiro. Shiro has to go through this any time he goes anywhere in Hollywood.  

 Lance takes a step back, starting to feel nauseous. But Keith take his hand and lace his fingers through his.

“We have to look like a group,” he whispers to him, tugging him along. Right, just a group of friends going out to the movies. Nothing romantic or date-y about it. His Twitter is going to be a shit storm after this.

As soon as they’re inside, he contemplates deleting his Curious Cat right then and there.

The person working the ticket booth, at least, looks ten times more bored than the paps. They can take a breath, finally. Shiro lifts his sunglasses up and rests them on top of his head, eyes searching past the booth. They chose Monday, they told him, because there’s less likely to be a ton of fans out to the movies on a Monday.

“Tourists, maybe,” Adam had shrugged, “but who comes to Hollywood and goes to the movies?”

“What are we seeing?” Lance asks Keith. His hand is still in his, and he’s not going to let go if Keith isn’t.

“Some space movie,” he says, squinting at the names of the films behind the ticket person. “It sounded boring, but they’re into it.”

It does sound boring already, but he knows the rules. It’s technically a double date, but on the surface it’s a group outing. They have to stay together until they enter the theater, just in case someone sees them.

And it was Shiro and Adam’s date first, Keith and Lance are covering. So, they get to choose.

They get the four tickets, and Shiro gets two medium popcorns. A single fan stops the two of them for a picture while they’re in line, which Adam and Shiro take together.

Keith and Lance watch on until they can safely be sat a row behind Shiro and Adam, still holding hands. Under the glove, Lance’s hand starts to sweat, but he refuses to let go. As the previews play, Keith tosses a piece of popcorn at Shiro’s head but misses completely.

“Let me try,” Lance says, and Keith holds their bag of popcorn out for him. He closes one eye, holds the piece in front of him, and flicks it. It lands on Shiro’s shoulder, eliciting the cutest giggle from Keith.

So, he takes another one to try again. This time, it lands on Shiro’s head.

“What are you—” he swipes at the top of his head and turns back to them. He points at Keith, “Are we 13 still?”

“You’re not my dad,” Keith shrugs. When Shiro turns back around, Lance flicks another piece of popcorn at him, and Keith laughs into the crook of his elbow.

“They don’t call me sharpshooter for nothing,” he tells him.

“Who calls you sharpshooter?”

“Everyone.”

“Everyone?”

“Everyone I ask to call me sharpshooter.”

“Okay, sharpshooter,” Keith says. When he laughs, his grip on Lance’s hand tightens, and it makes Lance want to keep being funny. But the lights dim, and the movie starts, and they’re forced to be quiet.

Fifteen minutes in, he leans toward Keith and whispers, “This is the most boring movie I have ever watched in my entire life.”

“I’m glad we could agree on something,” Keith responds.

Lance resumes watching but only for a second before leaning in to whisper in Keith’s ear again. “Let’s go do something else.”

Keith’s eyes are lit up only by the screen when he looks at him. But even then, Lance can see the worry in them. “The paps will see us leave without them. They’ll know it was a set up.”

“So, we go out the back,” Lance says.

“But Adam and Shiro—”

“They’ll be fine with this boring ass movie.”

Keith squeezes his hand. More laughter, but it’s muffled into his shoulder. Still, he says, “I don’t know if I should.”

“We can come back in an hour.”

The laser beams from the movie flash in Keith’s eyes as he makes the decision. Lance is able to see the very moment he decides that what he wants to do is just as important.

“Okay,” he says, standing and pulling Lance up with him. Their seats shutter up with two ‘thunks’ and they duck out of the theater. Shiro and Adam are so engrossed in the movie that they don’t look back.

Keith is acting like they’re runaways, which sends Lance’s stomach into a tizzy. He runs down the hall, pulling Lance with him, and throws the back door open.

The coast is clear. There are no photographers there, just a dumpster and a few cars, probably belonging to the staff. They both take a moment, once the doors slam shut behind them, to readjust to the sun and figure out their next move.

 

-

 

**Boss Baby:**

> where’d you guys go :(

 

**Keith:**

> that movie sucked

> we’ll meet you guys at the back door

 

Keith puts his phone back in his pocket and crosses his arms over his chest. The heat made both of their palms too sweaty to hold hands anymore, and well, Keith still doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing.

They’ve walked a block away, stopped to get ice cream, and are circling their way back to the movie theater now. Keith’s vanilla ice cream drips down the cone onto his palm, and he eyes Lance’s own ice cream to make sure the same isn’t happening onto his gloves. He’s already crunching down on the cone, though, hands clean.

He has Keith’s biker jacket tied around his waist, which really isn’t good for the leather, but it looks cute enough that Keith won’t say anything about it.

“This is going to sound stupid,” Keith says, licking the scoop. A few sprinkles fall to the ground, “but this might be my first time in public with someone who isn’t famous in, like, three years.”

Lance raises his eyebrows, running his hand through sweaty hair. It’s curling at the ends, and with the gloves, the movement does something to Keith’s insides. “How does it feel?”

Keith opens his mouth and closes it again as they round a corner. Strange, but what he’s been waiting for all along. Most of the time he’s with Shiro in public, as close as they are, he just feels out of place.  “Good,” he says simply instead, trying to keep this date light and still unsure of how exactly dates are supposed to go. “Hey, did you end up getting a new camera like you were talking about?”

“Yeah, it’s all nice and fancy,” Lance says, “Rachel keeps telling me to make YouTube videos, but…”

He trails off, kicking at a pebble in front of him. He’s trying to keep things light too, but it seems they’re past light, superficial conversations. They’re getting closer than that, Keith realizes.

“But what?”

“It’s stupid.”

“I promise it’s not.”

“I guess—Well, sometimes I feel like being a fan of Shiro is all I’m really good for,” Lance sighs. “Like I make all of those edits of him and I have all of these followers, but I feel like he’s the only reason anyone watches them or cares about me at all.”

Keith squints at him through the sun, frowning. He’s barely eaten his ice cream, and it’s melting fast. “You’re really good, Lance,” he says. “And I mean that about your videos and you in general.”

“You’ve seen them?”

“Erm, yeah,” he nods. “Shiro showed me the one you made for his birthday.”

_I was the one who showed it to him,_ he wants to clarify. But that would give himself away immediately, way more than misremembering running through a breathing technique.

“I know what you mean, though,” he says. He didn’t want to talk about this, but the conversation is coming right back to it. A car passes, engine loud, and allows him to take a breath. “Shiro,” he shakes his head, looking up to the sky. He tightens his arms across his chest. “The only good thing about me is that I know him.”

“That’s not true,” Lance says.

They’ve returned to the back lot of the movie theater, and Lance sits down on the curb. Keith makes a noise of general disagreement as he tosses his uneaten cone in the trash and sits beside him.

“I mean it,” Lance goes on, “You’re—you’re this cool, mysterious guy who can be super protective and you care so much about people. And you love things, like I do, but you love them in this subtle way that makes it like a secret between you and whatever it is you love.”

“I guess,” Keith says, pushing his legs out in front of him. The gravel skids beneath his boots.

“I mean, you’re a person outside of Shiro, even if you’re the one that makes sure he stays alive,” Lance says. “Your life matters too, Keith. You know that, right?”

“I guess I do now,” Keith says. He finally looks at him, not able to handle hearing the words and seeing him say them at the same time. There’s an intensity in Lance’s eyes that makes him really believe that what he’s saying could be true.

“I like you a lot, Keith.”

“I like…you, too.”

It’s weird saying it aloud, but good. He’s said a lot of things to Lance that he’s never said aloud before, and Lance makes every single one of them easier than he thought he’d be.

Lance starts to lean in then, eyes falling shut. He doesn’t stop him, but the back door swinging open does. It slams against the wall and Shiro yells “Traitors!” Lance jerks back.

“Well, we’re here, aren’t we?” Keith stands, brushing off his jeans. Lance is right beside him, doing the same. _Nothing to see here._

Two feet away from a dumpster probably isn’t the best place for a first kiss, anyway.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Let’s go get bombarded by more photographers.”

 

The car ride back to the apartment is full of an energy that wasn’t there before. It’s palpable to Keith – he can feel it drawing him to Lance and Lance to him, filling the distance between them even in such a small car.

Lance must feel it too, because he follows Keith up to his apartment without even questioning whether he should go home now. Keith tries to unlock the door with his car key and then fumbles with the right one.

“I had fun,” Lance says as the door falls shut behind him. “Well, once we left that movie.”

Keith turns to nod, smile, stomach turning in anticipation of what he feels coming. Before he can say a word or anticipate it any longer, Lance takes a step forward, pulls him to him, and kisses him.

There’s nothing Keith can do but kiss back. It’s not in his blood to pull away from Lance, to stop this from happening at all. He doesn’t _want_ to stop this from happening, he’s decided. Lance’s gloved hand is on the back of his neck, and he needs it to stay there, pulling their faces as close as possible, forever.

“I haven’t really…kissed anyone,” he stammers when Lance’s lips break away from his. Their faces are still so close, foreheads nearly touching.

“That’s okay,” Lance breathes. “Everyone I kissed before you sucked.”

Then his lips meet his again in a kiss full of the passion Lance is known for. It’s exactly what he’s always thought a kiss should be since he was young, the kind he’s never gotten until now. It’s exactly the kind of kiss his mouth, his body, has been craving.

 

**TUESDAY, APRIL 30**

 

Waking up to Lance is still a dream in itself. Somehow Keith’s head always finds its way to Lance’s chest, their legs become entwined, and they both have their arms somewhere around the other’s body.

His biker jacket is flung on the floor, along with both of their t-shirts and Keith’s flannel. Their shoes were forgotten somewhere down the hall, and their jeans are somewhere mixed in the sheets.

They stopped at their underwear last night, a natural end to their stripping. They both focused entirely on kissing; kissing every visible part of the other’s body. Kisses that were long overdue for both of them.

It’s a different sight than it was a week ago, looking up at Lance from his spot at his chest. There’s more sun coming in from his window than there was before, casting light on Lance’s freckles and also on the various hickeys on his neck.

Keith didn’t even…kiss that hard. But they’re there, as plain as the eye can see.

“Mm, hi,” Lance says, voice thick with sleep. “You always wake up before me.”

There’s something about today. Maybe it’s what he’s done, what they’re beginning to share. But it makes reality hit, and it makes him second guess himself _again_. He doesn’t know why his brain refuses to shut up. Every moment like this, and it repeats over and over: Lance doesn’t deserve to be deceived.

He tries to ignore it, scooting up so he’s eye-level with Lance. He leans in first this time for a soft, fleeting kiss. “I’ve been waking up at the asscrack of dawn since 2017.”

Lance sits up, rubbing his eyes. “I avoided 8 a.m. classes every year until this past semester,” he says, and he turns to the clock on Keith’s nightstand. It’s not that early, just barely after 8.

He doesn’t groan or lie back down, or even throw the sheets off of them to get up. Instead, he grabs Keith’s sketchbook, still open to the _Twilight Zone_ drawing, off of the nightstand. He has a small smile playing on his face.

“You’re really good. Is this how you met Shiro?” he asks, starting to flip through it. “Art class or something?”

Keith squeezes his eyes shut, feeling a headache coming on already. He forgot about that lie, how he told Lance about his affinity for art _as Shiro_. He shouldn’t have been drawing in front of him ever, should have kept his sketchbook hidden. That’s something that can’t be covered up – Shiro can’t draw for shit, and he’s not about learn as much about form and color and figure-drawing as Keith knows overnight.

“No,” Keith says quickly, grabbing the sketchbook from him and flipping it closed. He sent him pictures of his drawings, drawings he was just dangerously close to seeing. “Sorry, I just—I hate showing people my sketchbook. A-and he was my Big Brother, with that program thing. I…actually got him into art recently.”

“I definitely can see the inspiration,” Lance says. “You guys have really similar styles. He’s sent me some stuff before.”

Lance is smart, smarter than Keith. He has to be close to figuring it out by now, with every mishap and forgetful error in front of him. It hasn’t come together in his head yet, but it will soon if Keith doesn’t do something.

Keith finds his jeans under the covers and jumps out of bed, tugging them on. He feels himself shake as he opens his closet and pulls a random shirt over his head.

         “I just realized I have to…pick up Shiro’s mail,” he says. He has to find Shiro, so they can figure something out. Maybe he can teach Shiro, or draw in a new sketchbook Shiro can keep at his apartment. “His P.O. box is probably overflowing.”

He’s just turning for the door when Lance says, “Keith.”

His voice is small, but strong. Keith stops but doesn’t face him.

“Why do you always run?”

“I’m not—” Keith turns his head, closes his eyes and sighs. “I’m just—”

“You’ve been doing it since we met,” he says. “I mean, I’m not going to act like I know what it is, but if you’re scared—It’s just—You can’t kiss me like that and then run away like—”

“Lance,” he stops him. His voice, compared to Lance’s, is more small than strong. He turns to face him fully. “Look, I—I need to tell you something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's be friends!  
> [TWITTER](http://www.twitter.com/stephclaires)  
> [ART INSTA](http://www.instagram.com/literatidraws)  
> Also, I'm currently in the process of writing some bonus scenes for this that are the Adashi scenes we don't see entirely from Lance's or Keith's POV. Follow my Twitter to see where to find those!! :D I have one up right now, but if I can get my shit together there will be more.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the downward spiral begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is about half the length of the usual chapters because I'm going insane. Enjoy!

**TUESDAY, APRIL 30**

It’s now or never.

Lance is leaving for four months, and if Keith doesn’t tell him now, he’ll never tell him. The months will pass slowly, they’ll text every day, and he’ll wait in agony for Lance to find out for himself, which will surely be more disastrous than this will be.

He just has to get the words out. Just a few words and an explanation, and then it’s over. He takes a step forward but then back again. Lance is sitting up, ready and puzzled. Keith can’t meet his eye, and the marks he made on Lance’s chest are too visible. He has to look away from him completely.

“So, you know how you—” he pauses, clearing his throat. It’s dry. He should have gotten water before doing this, maybe brushed his teeth. Each word tastes horrible coming from his mouth. “I—Um, you were DMing Shiro, like daily, before we met.”

“Yeah?” Lance says, drawing the single word out. Keith still can’t look at him. He refuses to see the confusion on his face turn to anger or hurt, to watch the moment where his entire opinion of Keith changes.

“It wasn’t Shiro,” Keith says. “It was me.”

“What?”

“The DMs. It was me,” Keith says quicker, louder now. “You were talking to me. I was on Shiro’s account, pretending to be him so I could talk to you.”

Lance pulls back, head falling against the wall behind him, and Keith forces himself to break his gaze up from the floor to look at him. Rather than angry or upset, he’s still confused, eyebrows drawn together and his lips pressed into a frown.

“No, it wasn’t,” he says, shaking his head. He waves Keith off and tries to laugh. “No, I was just talking to Shiro about stuff we DMed about yesterday. We—We had a whole conversation.”

“He was just covering for me,” Keith says, but Lance is still shaking his head.

“No, I Skyped with him,” he says. “I _heard_ him. It was him.”

“Lance, look,” Keith sighs. He swallows, and Lance slides out of bed, looking like he’s still trying to put all of the pieces together in his head. His white boxer briefs and socks are the only thing on him as he folds the covers down to hastily look for his jeans. Keith has to look away again. “I used to manage Shiro’s social media. On his birthday, I liked your selfie. But I had too much to drink and I didn’t realize I was on his account.”

“What are you—” Lance says breathily, tugging his jeans on. He finds his shirt on the floor and pulls it on over his head. “Why are you making up a whole ass story just to—”

“Wait, what?” Keith stammers. This is the last response he expected from Lance. Annoyance, sure, but not annoyance spawned from denial. “I’m not making anything up.”

Lance turns to him, arms falling to his sides. “I know for a fact it was Shiro. He sent me pictures and he talked about being on set and it was just _him_ ,” he says. “I tried to believe that you were warming up to me but you’re still running and now that I called you out, you’re lying to me so I’ll—so what? So _I’ll_ leave?”

“What are you talking about?”

Lance takes a couple of steps toward him, hickeys peaking out from under his shirt now. The distressed frown is a sharp contrast to the desire his lips held last night. Now, Keith can see the hurt he was expecting, Lance’s eyes wide and shoulders drooping.

“Just say you’re afraid of love, Keith,” Lance says, barely audible as he steps around him. “You don’t have to make up an elaborate lie just to make me go away.”

Keith follows him down the hall, where Lance bends down to grab his shoes. He keeps walking toward the door, not stopping to put them on. Keith opens his mouth and closes it again.

“I’m afraid of love,” he says. Lance stops in his tracks, keeping his back to Keith and his hand on the doorknob. “I’m afraid of love, but you make me less afraid. Which is why I’m telling you the truth right now.”

Lance doesn’t move, and for a long while, he doesn’t say anything. Keith can’t decide whether to go on explaining himself and trying to apologize or if he should just let the silence continue.

“I…” Lance starts before he can decide, turning his head to the side so he’s just barely looking back at Keith. “I should go.”

He opens the door, and Keith makes no move to stop him. He’s still struggling to wrap his mind around what exactly is happening. He was prepared for this very outcome, but at the same time, he wasn’t.

The door clicks shut behind Lance, and for a long time, Keith stays where he is. He hasn’t a clue of what he’s supposed to do next.

 

-

 

Even with the whole ride home to think about it, Lance still doesn’t know what just happened. None of it makes sense to him.

Last night, Keith was open and raw. He kissed Lance without holding back, and he came undone enough to let Lance do the same to him. It was like things were progressing tenfold, like in the morning they’d be together officially, and everything would always be as blissful as it was in that moment.

But then morning really came, and Keith started running again. When that didn’t work, he made something up to…sabotage whatever it was they were building. And then he claimed he was telling the truth, in an open and raw way reminiscent of the night before that made Lance want to believe him.

If it’s the truth, though, that doesn’t make sense either. It _was_ Shiro’s voice on the other end of the Skype call, he knows it was. Shiro gave him advice and talked to him about things Keith never would have talked about a month ago. And Shiro referenced the DMs multiple times since Lance has known him in person. He was talking to his hero for a month. There’s no way it was Keith.

None of it makes any sense at all.

He’s still trying to work through it when he walks into the apartment and Rachel jumps right out in front of him. She’s giddy, bouncing on her toes with bright eyes. Lance tries to match her enthusiasm and perk up too, but he knows he fails miserably.

“Hey,” she says. “Someone didn’t come home last night.”

“Guilty,” he breathes out a laugh, stepping around her into the kitchen.

Rachel finds her way back in front of him and pulls the neck of his t-shirt down. Her eyes widen as she says, “Wow. He really did a number on you.” There’s just barely a pause before she gets excited again. “Oh my god, did you guys hook up already?”

“What?” Lance looks down and just barely gets a glimpse at the array of hickeys on his collarbone. He should have known Keith would leave a mark. “Shit,” he mutters.

“Wait.¿En serio? You guys hooked up,” she starts to giggle. “On the first date.”

“No,” Lance heads to their room. He doesn’t so much as slow down by the bathroom or turn his head to the mirror; he doesn’t want to see the extent of Keith’s doing. Not when Keith’s made this whole thing ten times more complicated than it needs to be. “No, we just made out.”

The thing is, when he was falling asleep last night, he thought about how he’d excitedly relay yesterday’s events to his sister today. He was ready to share with her how finally, something was working out the way it was supposed to. Now he doesn’t want to open his mouth at all.

Rachel’s on his heels, following him into their room before he can close the door behind him. “Still, that’s intense. He must have been harboring intense sexual desire since the beginning.”

Maybe before that, if Keith’s actually telling the truth. But no, he can’t be. He’s just scared and being ridiculous. Lance can’t help the groan that comes out as he plops down onto his bed.

“Gross, Rachel.”

“What’s with you?” she asks. “Usually I’m the one saying gross and asking you to spare me the details.”

Lance pulls his pillow to him, wrapping his arms around it and squeezing. He buries his face into it, so she can’t read him like usual. “I’m just tired.”

If this were any other situation, he’d be venting to her. But this isn’t Nyma telling him he’s too much for her or a random Tinder hookup ghosting him. This is a mindfuck, something that makes him feel naive on either side of the coin. Naive to think that Keith was finally going to stop being elusive, or naive to believe that Takashi Shirogane wanted to be his friend. Stupid, too, because he can’t figure out which one it is.

So, until he at least comes to some kind of a conclusion, he’s not saying shit.

When he pulls his head up from the pillow, Rachel’s still beaming. She’s glowing, really, sitting up straight in her own bed with her shoulders back. The complete opposite to Lance’s closed-off fetal position, and to how she’s been the last few weeks.

She can’t be _that_ excited about his apparent romantic win.

“What’s with you?” he asks. “Did _you_ hook up with someone last night while I was gone?”

This just serves to perk her up even more, somehow. She doesn’t reach out to smack him for the question or even deny it, really. She just leans forward, lips spreading into a big, toothy smile.

“I got a callback,” she squeals. “For the Paramount movie. They called me this morning.”

Lance immediately sits up, even goes so far to stand on his bed to gape at her. For that split second, he forgets everything about Keith and Shiro. “ _What?_ ” he leans forward, jumping the small distance between their beds onto hers. “Why didn’t you lead with that?” he asks, bouncing.

“Well, you were so excited about the date. I wanted to know how it went,” Rachel shrugs, and Lance pounces on her, jumping right into a bear hug. He squeezes her tight, barely allowing her to say, “And I didn’t get the part yet. I don’t want to get ahead of myself.”

He pulls away, his hands on her shoulders. “You’re going to get it,” he says. “I have a good feeling.”

The same good feeling he had about Keith, but that’s neither here nor there.

That thought, it seems, breaks the barrier of Rachel’s success as a distraction. As soon as he thinks it, his phone buzzes, and his feelings get the best of him. He has to check it, hoping for more of an explanation from Keith. What he really hopes for is this: an admission that Keith was lying about pretending to be Shiro, that he was scared and made something up as some weird self-sabotage, and that he’s ready to let Lance in.

The problem would be solved, and Lance could fully revel in how happy he is for his sister.

But the only thing he gets from that list is the apology.

 

**Keith:**

> I’m sorry

> I didn’t mean to spring that on you after last night but there’s not really a great time to tell someone you catfished them

> It really was an accident at first, but there was just something about you and I didn’t think you’d talk to me since you liked Shiro so much so I just…I don’t know. It was stupid. It IS stupid. But it’s the truth.

 

“What, is he professing his love for you already?” Rachel asks, trying to read over Lance’s shoulder. He locks his phone before she can get the chance.

“He was just making sure I got home,” he says, pocketing it. He’ll respond later or tomorrow or something. Or never, preferably. “Let’s go out a-and celebrate.”

“I didn’t get the part yet, Lance.”

“So?” he jumps up, pulling his shirt off so he can find something with a higher neckline. He grabs the first thing that fits the bill and puts it on. “You’re going to be auditioning in front of the producers and directors. It’s a big deal. And I just finished junior year, which is equally as big of a deal, obviously.”

“Okay, but,” she laughs, “it’s not even noon.”

“So, we get brunch,” he says. “I’ll pay for it.”

He leaves the room and forces Rachel to follow him to the living room, put her shoes on, and go to the first place that comes up when Lance Googles “brunch.” Anything to get out of the house, anything to get out of his head.

 

**WEDNESDAY,  MAY 1**   
  


Lance doesn’t know why he’s standing outside of Keith’s apartment. He probably shouldn’t be. It’s just that last night, when he no longer had anything to distract him from replaying the events of the morning in his head, he realized he ran out when he was supposed to dog sit Kosmo. And as much as he didn’t want to, he felt guilty for it.

That’s the main reason he’s telling himself he’s standing here. He’s also sort of hoping things can still be okay, maybe. There’s still a small part of him that’s hoping Keith will cut the bullshit and kiss him again. He knocks and hopes for the best.

Keith’s surprised to see him, a small gasp escaping him as he steps back to let Lance in. All sorts of emotions cross his face in just the second Lance looks at him: anxiety, shame, frustration. No sign of a kiss or “I was just kidding, want to go on another date?”

Lance shouldn’t have come. He shouldn’t have come. He didn’t even have to – Keith clearly wasn’t expecting him. Kosmo’s dish is full, and the dog’s zipping down the hall like he just pooped.

But he wanted to come. That’s the truth.

“Lance,” Keith finally says. “Hey. Look—”

“I’m here because I made a commitment to Kosmo.”

 _And because I wanted to see you._ Because this stupid, sudden complication has not changed anything yet. He still wants it to be a lie, a farce. Something that Keith will give up soon, so he can make everything better.

“Oh, um…okay,” Keith says. “I took him out and fed him already. I was just…leaving.”

He waits for Lance to say something, but when he doesn’t, Keith keeps his head down and walks to the door. But as he opens it, he turns back around. Lance sees, then, that he’s barely slept. It makes him, for a brief moment, want to fix things himself. But he still doesn’t quite understand all of this.

“Lance,” Keith says. “I’m really sorry. I’ll explain everything, really.”

“I just don’t…” Lance starts. “I don’t understand.”

Keith’s being sincere, he finally realizes. But that truth is still something he can’t quite comprehend. It wasn’t Shiro, it was Keith. For a whole month, without knowing it, he was talking to Keith. But how? How?

It was Shiro’s verified account. It _had_ to be Shiro.

“I—” Keith turns to look down the hall. “I really have to go. I’m—” he shakes his head. “I’m so stupid. I’m sorry.”

Then he just leaves, running off like usual.

Lance only really starts to put the pieces together when he gets back from taking Kosmo on a long walk. He’s just unbuckled the harness in the doorway, the dog circling around his legs, when Keith’s collection of _Twilight Zone_ DVDs catches his eye.

He tosses the harness on the table and sits down, opening up his Twitter for the first time all week. Admittedly, he turned his notifications off as soon as tweets started pouring in about the paparazzi pictures at the movies yesterday.

He opens up his messages with Shiro, scrolling quickly.

There it is, staring right back at him:

 

**Lance (@thesoftshiro)**

> WHAT

> If you haven’t seen those what movies HAVE you seen?

 

**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

 

> I like the twilight zone

 

He keeps scrolling, right to the pictures of Shiro’s sketchbook he sent him from set. Lance jumps right back up and books it to Keith’s room, finding his sketchbook still on his nightstand. He nearly tears a page flipping through it as fast as he can.

Just three pages in is a page full of sketches of Lotor. Lance holds his phone up beside the book. It’s, of course, identical to the picture he thought Shiro was sending him from set. He thought Shiro had drawn it, a hidden talent only he knew about.

Stupid. Fucking stupid.

He tosses the sketchbook back onto Keith’s nightstand, and it slides right off onto the floor. He makes no move to pick it up, pacing back out into the hallway and continuing to scroll. He can’t help himself.

 

**SHIRO (@takashitweets)**

> shiro taught me this way of breathing when you feel stressed

> you hold one nostril closed, breathe in, then let go of that nostril and close the other one and breathe out, breathe in through that same nostril, and repeat the process

 

 _Shiro taught me_. A dead giveaway, and he didn’t even catch it. He’d just believed “Shiro” at face value, that he’d made that typo because he was tired after super long days on set.

Immediately, the memory is sparked of Keith, just last week. He’d thought he had already taught Lance the technique, when Lance couldn’t remember him even mentioning it. This was what he was thinking of.

Lance wants to throw his phone at the wall, but he doesn’t. He can’t bring himself to move any longer. He’s just frozen there in the middle of Keith’s hallway, Kosmo staring at him and waiting for a treat by the door. He clenches his phone tight in his hand instead, letting the edges of his phone case pinch his skin.

He’d heard Shiro on the Skype call, but he’d also heard a familiar voice talking to him. It had been Keith. It was Keith who shut the computer, ended the call before Lance could see his face. It was Keith, this whole time.

And Shiro just knew it was happening. He let Keith pretend to be him, let Lance go on believing he was his friend for a whole month. They probably sat together and laughed about how this dumb fan thought Takashi Shirogane would deign to talk to him.

God, he’s so stupid. He’s so stupid for believing that anything special was happening to him. He’s stupid for sitting here for over 24 hours thinking it couldn’t possibly be true, Keith couldn’t possibly have been catfishing him.

He and Shiro were just too good, too kind. They wouldn’t _do_ that.

Nausea builds up in his throat. He really shouldn’t have come here.

He gives Kosmo a treat on his way out the door and takes the steps down to the parking lot two at a time. Just his luck, Shiro’s BMW is pulling into the lot the second he steps outside.

Lance waits by the door, his breathing shallow, as the engine shuts off. He can already feel a panic attack coming on and clenches his fists to contain himself. Shiro looks as cool as ever with his sunglasses, leather jacket, and yeezys. He waves as soon as he sees Lance.

“Hey, kid. What’s up?” he says, nearing the doorway. “I’m just stopping to change before an interview.”

“You knew this whole time,” Lance says, keeping his arms crossed in front of him. His voice shakes, and he hates it. “You just knew, and you let me go on looking stupid.”

“What?” Shiro asks, but he knows what Lance is talking about. It’s clear by his face and the way his shoulders sag the second he processes the words. He takes a step toward Lance, but Lance steps back.

“I really thought—Do you know how much I’ve supported you for _years_?” Lance asks. “I have a poster of you in my fucking bedroom. I’ve live tweeted every episode and movie and award show you were in. And I always thought the amount I loved you meant something, like we were supposed to be friends or something. But that’s not true, apparently, and you’re not even as great as I thought you were.”

“Lance, look,” Shiro mumbles, “can we go inside and talk about this?”

“Those DMs meant everything to me. You know that?” Lance continues without stopping. Shiro’s jaw clenches and he looks off to the side. “Do you know how much they made every part of my life suck less? And you both just made it a joke!”

“That’s not at all what it was.”

“So, you didn’t just let your assistant talk to me as you for a month?” Lance asks. “You didn’t just knowingly let me believe, this whole time, that we’ve been friends since March?”

“I didn’t even know about it until the ASPCA thing, when you brought it up,” Shiro says. He’s being so annoyingly calm about this, voice even and low, and it makes Lance want to puke even more. “He hasn’t DMed you since then, has he?”

“No,” Lance says, and he takes another step back, running into the door of the apartment. “No, but you talked about them. You still let me think—Did Adam know too?”

Shiro crosses his own arms over his chest and nods, making Lance grunt.

“So you all knew, you all were pretending, and I was just sitting there being gullible idiot,” he says. “And you let it happen. You all just lied to me the whole time.”

“Lance, that’s really not what it was,” Shiro says. “Has Keith talked to you? He can explain the whole thing.”

“Really? Because that’s exactly what it looks like,” Lance says. “I don’t need an explanation because it’s all right there in the facts.”

“Lance—”

Finally, Lance steps around Shiro, not letting him finish. He waves to him on his way to his car without looking back. “Tell Keith to find a new dog sitter,” he says. “I—I’m going home Friday anyway.”

He’s not going to cry. He won’t. He wills himself not to, at least until he’s out of this parking lot and away from Shiro. Shiro can’t know just how much this is hurting Lance, how much he has to mourn the fact that his hero is an asshole and that his perfect relationship will never come to fruition. This has all been a joke to them, all three of them, this whole time.

Lance takes in a breath to stabilize himself and pulls out his phone. He has to tell Rachel now, the only person he won’t feel completely embarrassed to tell. Even telling her comes with some shame, though. She was skeptical about it from the very beginning.

When he unlocks his phone, it opens right back to his Twitter DMs. He still has 20+ notifications waiting for him, and he clicks on the icon just to make the bubble go away. Right at the top is a new tweet to him, from a fellow _Kerberos_ fan account.

**Grace (@sunshineykerb):** u telling me this wasn’t a double date @takashitweets @adamwright @thesoftshiro @keithkogane

 

For the first time, he gets a good look of the paparazzi photos from Monday. Shiro and Adam are at the forefront, obviously. In this particular photo, both of their heads are down, and Adam is peaking at Shiro with a small grin. Behind them, Keith has Lance’s hand in his, with just barely an inch of space between the two of them. It puts a sour taste in Lance’s mouth.

 

-

 

Keith is already at _Glamour_ ’s office, Café Americano in hand, when Shiro speeds into the lot, engine roaring. He hasn’t been waiting long, but it’s longer than he usually has to. He can sense Shiro’s energy is off before he even gets out of the car.

“I don’t know how, but he figured it out,” is the first thing Shiro says. He takes the cup of coffee and downs a long sip.

No, Keith didn’t tell Shiro. He tried, sort of. It was like telling him about the DMs all over again: never a good time to do it, especially knowing how angry he would be the second the words left Keith’s mouth.

He thought he had some time, though. Lance still, for some reason, seemed to believe that he was making the whole thing up. He thought he had more time to explain, to get Lance to understand why he did it.

Apparently not.

Keith doesn’t have to say anything before the gears turn in Shiro’s head and he realizes. “Wait,” Shiro says. “You—You didn’t tell him, did you?”

“I—”

“ _Keith_ ,” Shiro says, and he starts pacing. Before passing Keith the third time, he grabs him by the sleeve and pulls him to his car. The second the doors are shut, he goes off, “Did you not understand a word I said? This is going to—”

“Ruin your career,” Keith finishes for him. “I had to tell him, okay? I couldn’t keep lying to him, and he would’ve found out soon anyway.”

“How? Please explain that to me.”

“Because you can’t draw!” Keith says. “Did you ignore that part of the DMs? He thought you could draw. How were you planning on covering that one up?”

“We would’ve figured something out.”

“I was tired of lying,” Keith says, leaning back in his seat. Shiro covers his eyes with his hand and shakes his head.

“Well, now you’ve jeopardized everything I’ve worked nonstop for in the past three years,” he says, lifting his head.

“Not everything is about you, Shiro,” Keith surprises himself by saying. “I know everyone acts like it is, like you matter more than people like me and Lance, but you don’t. He deserved to know. How would you feel keeping something like that from Adam?”

“I—” Shiro pauses, and a frown starts to form. He’s quick to wipe it off his face, though. “I wouldn’t have done something as stupid as that in the first place. None of this would be an issue if you’d just messaged him on your own account.”

“Whatever,” Keith kicks the glove box, moving to open the door. Shiro grabs his arm to stop him, pulling him back. “You’re going to be late for your interview.”

Shiro drops his hand from his arm, putting his coffee cup in the cupholder and digging through his pocket for his phone. “I have to make sure they’re not going to ask me about anything he tweeted.”

“I doubt he tweeted anything,” Keith says, but Shiro just gives him a look.

He can’t be as big of an asshole as Shiro’s making him seem. He did a shitty thing – he has recognized that time and time again. But he doesn’t think avoiding some rumors for Shiro matters more than Lance’s control over and understanding of his life. He deserved to know the truth, to not be kept in the dark while everyone around him knew the reality, even if it upsets him now.

But even being strong in that notion doesn’t stop his stomach from falling into his ass at the sight of Shiro turning pale, eyes widening, as he scrolls through his timeline.

“What?” Keith asks. “Did he actually—?”

“He—” Shiro says. “This is all over my timeline.”

Shiro hands Keith his phone, and the first thing he sees is one of the paparazzi photos he saw earlier. It was one of the rare fans who tagged Keith along with the rest of the group, probably one of the ones who followed him solely because he knew Shiro.

He actually reads the tweet now, though, and he knows what’s coming as soon as he does.

 

 **Grace (@sunshineykerb):** u telling me this wasn’t a double date @takashitweets @adamwright @thesoftshiro @keithkogane

 

Beneath it, of course, is a reply from Lance, which now has several thousand likes and retweets. According to Shiro, people have been quoting it and posting screenshots of it, speculating whether or not it’s a joke.

It simply says: “It WAS a double date.”

“Um,” is all he can say, and as he’s handing the phone back to Shiro, a call from Allura starts to come through. The high-pitched trill of the Apple ringtone makes Keith jump, and he tosses the phone into Shiro’s lap.

Without a second thought, Shiro presses ignore.

They sit there, then, neither of them saying a word until a knock on the window makes them both jump. Shiro rolls down the window to reveal Adam, who looks just as stressed out as the both of them. He and Shiro are supposed to be doing a “friendship test” for _Glamour_ right this very minute, which was already bound to look suspicious. Now it’s all anyone in the fandom will be talking about.

“Takashi, Twitter’s going insane,” Adam says, leaning into the car. He won’t even look at Keith, probably already knowing that it’s his fault. All of this is his fault – it all stems back to him being an idiot. If he could disappear right now, he would.

“I know,” Shiro says. “It’s an issue.”

“Should we—” Adam starts, and Keith wishes he’d say it so he doesn’t have to himself. Just tell them. Be honest. _Just be honest._ “I mean, what are we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Shiro sighs, wiping his palms on his jeans.

“I guess we could go do some trust falls for _Glamour_ and pretend we don’t know anything about it,” Adam says.

“You guys should just—”

“I’ll talk to you when I get home,” Shiro says to Keith, opening up his door a crack so Adam can take a step back.

As he steps outside, Keith asks, “What? I thought I was—”

“I’ll see you at home, Keith.”

He says it with insistence, and there’s something in his tone that tells Keith the worst fact of all: After all of this, he’s fired.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's be friends!  
> [TWITTER](http://www.twitter.com/stephclaires)  
> [ART INSTA](http://www.instagram.com/literatidraws)  
> 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Shiro makes some admissions and Keith faces some consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter I played "How Many BTS References Can I Make In A Single Chapter" hope u enjoy ;D

**THURSDAY, MAY 2**

 

Last night, Keith sat at his kitchen table in anticipation yet again, expecting Shiro to arrive any minute and rip him to shreds. However, this time, that moment never came. There was never any heavy rapping at his door or a “what the hell were you thinking?” spat at him. Just silence.

Even Kosmo followed suit, somehow dozing off on the couch without his usual snoring. There wasn’t a sound to be heard in the apartment. Keith eventually heard Shiro’s keys jingle and his and Adam’s murmurs from down the hall, but never did Shiro come to see Keith or even send him a text.

It left him wide awake, wondering whether that was better or worse than what he was expecting. Maybe Shiro never wanted to speak to him again. He stared at the flags Lance got him in the dark and wished more than anything that he could start over.

It didn’t take him long to realize he’d lost absolutely everything. His apartment would be next, as soon as Shiro stopped paying him to be his assistant. He couldn’t afford this place otherwise. He couldn’t afford to live in L.A. in general.

He’d have to move back to Texas, where he knows even _less_ people, somehow. He’d have to get a job at Starbucks or something, a job he’s been grateful not to be forced to have all along, and he’d spend the rest of his life cursing himself for this. Everything was going to change because of one stupid mistake. This doesn’t happen to the people on _Catfish_. He wasn’t prepared for this.

The thought spiral kept him awake until 4 in the morning at least. Around 2, he rolled over and checked his phone. Still nothing from Shiro, and with the light of the screen reflecting on his face, he pulled up his conversation with Lance.

**Keith:**

> Can we please talk?

 

Nothing came back from Lance, and logically, he could admit to himself that Lance was probably asleep. But even still, the lack of response served as another reason to keep him awake.

That was last night.

Today, he wakes up to someone bursting into his bedroom. The door swings open and hits the wall, sending a loud bang to reverberate through the apartment. Keith jolts awake and his body jitters. He feels like he fell asleep approximately one minute ago.

“You’re still asleep?” It’s Shiro, standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips. There’s no bite to his voice like Keith was expecting to hear when he’d imagined the next time he’d see his best friend. Instead it’s pinched, worried.

He turns to check the clock: it’s nearing 12:30.

“I—” he starts. He wipes his eyes and gets a clearer look at Shiro. His own eyes are wide, red, and puffy. He’s still in his pajamas, his broad shoulders tense. The more Keith studies him, confused, the more Shiro loosens up.

“You weren’t texting me back,” he says, taking a step forward, shoulders drooping. “I was—I thought you—I don’t know. So, I used my key. Sorry.”

“You’re not the one who should be apologizing,” Keith says, letting his head fall back down onto his pillow. “I can’t stop doing things that require apologies.”

Shiro walks around to the other side of Keith’s bed, and the springs squeak as he sits down on the edge. Keith takes a deep breath and keeps his eyes on the ceiling. Although Shiro was worried, Keith knows a lecture is coming now that Shiro knows he’s okay. Shiro shifts, humming softly. “You’re not the only one at fault here, actually.”

Keith flicks his gaze to him without moving his head. “What?”

“You were—I mean, you were right. I’ve made everything about me from the moment we moved here,” Shiro says, his voice small. He turns his head to look at Keith, who’s still more confused than anything. “The more I think about it, the more I’m really…not surprised about the DMs.”

Keith sits up again, leaning forward. “What are you talking about?”

“Okay, so, I—I don’t know if you can tell, but,” Shiro says, bowing his head for a moment before looking back at Keith, “I haven’t had a panic attack since we lived in Texas, and I had approximately 15 in the last 24 hours. Do you know why?”

“Because I’m an idiot?” Keith tries. “And told Lance the truth when I didn’t have to?”

Shiro tries to laugh, but it comes out weakly. “Because I have spent the last three years taking control of whatever I could to keep up this stupid, perfect image I’m supposed to have.”

“I mean, it makes sense that you would—”

Shiro shakes his head, stopping Keith. “I made you my assistant so I didn’t have to hand over my life to someone I didn’t know. I made my boyfriend keep our relationship a secret so that people wouldn’t have bullshit to say about it. I took control of the Lance situation because I thought it would be a disaster if anyone found out, and now I’m pretty sure I made it worse than it would have been.”

Keith watches Shiro, the way his hands shake as he places one over the other on top of his knee, the way his lips purse. All night, Keith thought he was spending the time seething, but instead, he was spending it blaming himself. And not once did Keith even see that as a possibility. He still doesn’t.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like your life mattered less than mine,” Shiro’s lips set into a frown. “It’s just so hard having everyone looking at you and waiting for something to criticize. So, I just…had to be…the best.”

“You really think any of this is your fault?” Keith asks. He scoots closer to Shiro, sitting at the edge of the bed with him so he can hear him loud and clear. “It’s not. It’s mine. I knew what I was doing was wrong the whole time, and I knew the consequences of telling Lance, but I did all of it anyway, so…”

“It is, though, Keith. It’s—” Shiro sighs. “We’re best friends, right? But I was your mentor first, and this whole time I thought I was helping you like I was supposed to. But everything I did, I was really just helping myself. And if I’d done anything to actually help you, none of this would have happened.”

Keith squints at him, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. He’s not going to let the guilt go, and well, Keith isn’t about to fight for Shiro to be mad at him. So instead, he goes in for a hug, wrapping his arms tight around his friend, and refusing to be the first to let go.

“It’s seriously not your fault, Shiro,” he murmurs.

Shiro pulls away eventually to say, “Even if it’s not, I’m taking responsibility.”

“You know, this is why Lance loves you,” Keith says. “And why everyone thinks you’re perfect.”

“I’m just being an adult whose boyfriend doubles as a therapist,” Shiro says, standing, and Keith stands too. “And also, Lance hates me now.”

“You should probably find a real therapist.”

“You probably should too,” Shiro laughs, more easily this time. “But speaking of Adam, uh—We talked, and I think I might have catastrophized a bit with the Lance thing.”

“Yeah?” Keith asks, crossing his arms. It’s a bad time to yawn, but he can’t hold it in any longer. “Everything you were worried about made sense to me.”

“Yeah,” Shiro shrugs, “but he knows, and my career is still intact. And even if he told people, I don’t think—Well, Adam convinced me that it wouldn’t be as catastrophic as I’m thinking it would.”

“I mean, it was mostly me,” Keith thinks, “and if anything, they’d spin it to make you the victim. You didn’t keep that image pristine for nothing.”

Shiro smiles, but it’s tense once again. “Exactly what he said,” Shiro says. “But that means I’m probably catastrophizing the relationship thing too. So, I’m…”

He pauses, taking in a deep breath.

“I’m going to confirm what Lance said,” Shiro announces.

This, out of everything he’s heard from Shiro, surprises Keith the most. Maybe Shiro can accept that things are slightly out of his control now, but he didn’t think he’d suddenly roll with it and admit to anything. At least not so soon. It took him several days to decide to make his coming out video instead of letting himself be known as a straight guy playing a gay character. And this is, according to Shiro at least, much different than that.

“Wait, really?”

Another deep breath.

“Uh huh,” Shiro nods, slowly. “I’m going to do a livestream, like old times.”

“Your fans will go nuts.”

“Exactly,” Shiro says. “Which is why I need you there with Adam and why I texted you so get ready. I said I’d be doing it at two.”

“Wait you already—” But Keith can’t finish what he’s saying, because Shiro takes him by the shoulders and spins them around so Keith’s the closest to the door. He gives him a nudge, sending his still-sleepy self to trip forward.

“Get dressed, maybe eat something quick,” Shiro says. Keith holds his hands up in surrender and trudges the rest of the way to his closet. “And please wash your face.”

“What’s wrong with my face?” He turns to watch as Shiro starts to pass him to leave.

Shiro reaches out briefly to muss up Keith’s hair. Keith tries to smack his hand away, but he’s too fast. “You just don’t wash it enough. I know you.”

“I definitely do.”

“No, you don’t,” Shiro says. He pauses there in front of Keith, and his eyes turn concerned again. He moves his hand from Keith’s hair to his shoulder and squeezes. “Hey, we’re going to figure this out, okay? Lance can’t hate either of us forever.”

Keith gives a small nod, and Shiro’s out the door. As soon as the door to the apartment clicks shut, he runs – and stumbles – to get his phone off of the nightstand. Getting dressed can wait a couple of minutes.

Truth be told, as soon as Keith said Lance’s name earlier, his brain started repeating “check your phone,” amongst the rest of his thoughts. Maybe, he had thought, if Shiro thought it through and wasn’t mad, Lance could forgive him that easily too. Maybe he didn’t hate him. Maybe Keith hadn’t lost too much after all.

His heart skyrockets to his throat the second he sees Lance’s name beneath the six missed texts from Shiro. Maybe, maybe. Maybe.

He can’t unlock his phone fast enough, but everything sinks when he sees Lance’s text. It’s not exactly bad, but it’s not…good. If Shiro’s speech about his own fault in this was a tier above forgiveness, Lance’s message is several stages below that.

 

**Lance:**

> Maybe when I get back idk

 

**Keith:**

> in August??

        

**Lance:**

> yeah I leave tomorrow anyway

        

**Keith:**

> I mean I could call you

> or I could stop at your apartment later

> I really only need like 15 minutes to explain myself

> please

        

The typing bubble appears and disappears, giving Keith a sliver of hope that maybe the conversation can happen soon. Before Lance ruminates on it and comes up with a billion wrong, worse reasons why Keith would pretend to be Shiro. But soon another text comes through.

 

**Lance:**

> This is just…a lot right now.

> I’ve barely even processed it and idk if I want to talk to you right now. Sorry.

 

Keith doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything. He locks his phone and tosses it back onto the nightstand. He watches it, waiting for the screen to light up again with a change of heart, but it never does.

He falls back down onto his bed, sitting at the edge with his head in his hands. His breathing is becoming shallow, and he stays planted there, just trying to keep it together. Maybe he’ll just go to Shiro’s in his boxers and BTS shirt.

 

-

 

Lance regretted his tweet approximately five minutes after he sent it. It happened while he was driving, when he realized he didn’t have to do _that_ even though it felt like the only thing to do to feel better in that moment. But by the time he got home and could delete it, it had already blown up. People had taken screenshots and were spreading those just as much as the tweet itself.

He shouldn’t have been surprised. Ever since the paparazzi photos were posted and his connection to Shiro was confirmed, his follower count started rising faster than it ever had. He was somehow up to 100k before the tweet, and now, just a day after, he’s at 150k.

What he definitely wasn’t surprised about, though, was the amount of hate that has come his way since. He hasn’t checked his Curious Cat, but he doesn’t need to. It’s coming right to his notifications on Twitter.

 

 **beccaa (@beccadashi): @thesoftshiro** something smells. they obviously didn’t want anyone to know and it wasn’t YOUR secret to tell

 

 **SHIRO NOTICED 1/23 (@dearshiro) quoted your tweet:** is this clown done trying to get clout yet

 

 **jamie (@lilbabyshiro) quoted your tweet:** why is shiro friends with dumbasses and not me idgi

 

 **rae (@yoongiadam): @thesoftshiro** the best time to delete this tweet was immediately after sending it, the second best time is now :)

 

And those are just the ones at the top of his notification feed. He opens up his Curious Cat just to go to the settings and deactivate so he doesn’t see more hate than he has to. He’s putting in his password for confirmation as Rachel, on her own bed across the room from him, pulls an earbud out.

“What, did he text you again?” she asks. She’s taking a break from obsessively studying the script the producers gave her for her callback audition, but it won’t last long.

When he first told Rachel everything yesterday, she was just as confused as he was. She couldn’t see how Shiro’s Twitter, which is usually so personable, could have been run by someone else. And she couldn’t understand how Keith, who ‘clung to Lance for dear life’ in his sleep, could have done something so vindictive. Now, though, she’s become certifiably livid on Lance’s behalf.

Lance is at that stage too. Even if he feels bad for what he did to Shiro and Adam, he still has to see the hickeys Keith gave him every time he looks in the mirror. He’s still reminded every day how dumb and oblivious all of them made him look. They all acted like everything was tremendous, all while knowing nothing was what Lance thought it to be.

“No,” he says, “just Twitter messages.”

“ _Why_ are you still looking at that shit?”

“ _Because_ ,” Lance says, “I have nothing better to do. I don’t have a job or school. What am I going to do, watch _Kerberos?_ I’ll still feel like shit.”

“Film a YouTube video with your new camera,” she supplies, but all Lance does is grunt in response. Maybe if he knew the comments of that video wouldn’t get flooded with hate from the _Kerberos_ fandom as well, he’d consider it.

Instead he returns to his Twitter timeline, ignoring the “20+” that’s already reappeared on his notifications tab. He can still see some hate toward him on his timeline, but it’s a lot less. Most of the people he follows are speculating and counting down; Shiro announced this morning that he’d be doing a livestream later today.

It’s his first livestream in over a year, and though Lance’s admiration for Shiro has dwindled significantly in the last couple of days, he’s still going to watch. There’s that small part of him that’s still a fan, that’s still excited to see what he’ll say. There’s another part of him, too, that knows this is damage control and wants to see how Shiro’s doing, how he’ll handle it.

He hates that he still feels anything toward him, but that’s what happens when you spend years stanning someone. Even after you meet them, after they treat you like shit, it doesn’t just go away. They’re still _that_ celebrity that got you through hard times.  

Still, he’d rather feel all the rage and nothing else.

        

 **im babie (@shinykerb):** tennn minutes omg

 **im babie (@shinykerb):** do yall think he’ll talk about adam?? What if he confirms it :o

 **Aimé (@takashit): @thesoftshiro** will you be in Shiro’s livestream??

 **beccaa (@beccadashi): @takashit** why would he be? Shiro’s probably pissed at him

 

“I just can’t wait until we go home,” he sighs, locking his phone, “so I can go places and not have to worry about running into Keith.”

He wishes Keith could do a livestream, something he could watch anonymously. Because as much as he doesn’t want to admit that either, he wants to see him just as much as he wants to avoid him. While the hickeys on his neck remind him it was all a lie, they remind him of Keith’s lips and hands and the soft smile Keith had whenever Lance caught a glimpse of him in the midst of it. He’s a whole mess of emotions, still.

But he doesn’t want Keith to know that. Never.

“I might not go home at all,” Rachel says, and Lance drops his phone in his lap, cutting his eyes up to her. She’s standing at her desk, searching for a pen with her script tucked under her arm.

“What?” he asks. “¿Qué quieres decir? We’re literally flying back tomorrow.”

She turns to him. “My second audition is Saturday. I told you yesterday I was going to try to get my ticket refunded.” When his eyebrows come together, she sighs. “Did you not hear me? I complained about it this morning, too. They wouldn’t give me the money back.”

He slept until noon this morning, so no, this is news to him. It must be clear on his face, because Rachel just sighs again.

“You have to stop moping and pay attention or you’re going to get on the completely wrong plane tomorrow,” she says. “Maybe you shouldtalk to Keith today and get some kind of closure.”

Just the thought makes his breathing quicken. If there’s anything this has done, it’s caused him to second guess everything about not only his relationship with Keith, but about himself.

If he talked to Keith now, that whole mess of emotions he has swirling inside of him is sure to come out. And yet again, he can’t be sure how annoying or too much that would be. Maybe Keith was just pretending not to think he was pathetic and overbearing. Maybe he actuallyispathetic and overbearing.

He falls to his side, curling up on his bed again. He hasn’t left it yet today.

“I’m not talking to him,” he says. “So, I’m just supposed to fly home by myself? Odio los aeropuertos.”

“I can get you from baggage check to security tomorrow, and mamá and Luis will be at baggage claim when you get there,” she says. “It’ll be fine.”

He tries not to pout, but he can’t help it. He’s less upset about having to fly home by himself than he is about potentially not having Rachel by his side all summer. He doesn’t think he’s ever gone that long without her. From the womb to the tomb, or whatever.

“Do _they_  know you’re not coming?”

“Lance, yes,” she says. “Look, I have to practice this scene for Saturday. Will you read the other part for me?”

“In a little bit,” he says, groping around him to find his phone. “Shiro’s going live soon.”

“You’re still—” She starts but stops herself, and Lance knows how ridiculous he sounds. Regardless, he’s not going to miss this livestream. “Okay.”

She leaves the room, closing the door behind her. As soon as Lance finds his phone, the Instagram notification comes through: _takashiro started a live video. Watch it before it ends!_

He goes to open it but stops. He has to wait a minute, just in case he’s one of the first and Shiro sees he’s joined. He has to join among thousands of others, so Shiro doesn’t catch his name. He doesn’t want to wait too long, though, or else he’ll be in a slow group of people joining late.

Whatever. He clicks it, and Instagram pulls up the live feed. There’s already 17,467 viewers and it’s rapidly rising.

“—ong time, no see,” Shiro laughs, waving. “Yeah, I haven’t done one of these in forever. How is everyone?”

Shiro’s eyes focus down on the chat, which is mostly full of people saying hi and asking him to say hi back. Either that or telling him they love him and want him to visit their country. Hearts are rapidly floating up the right side of the screen.

Lance misses the excited, stomach flipping feeling he’d get watching Shiro’s lives. He’d never once gotten acknowledged from the chat, but it was always fun to send message after message in hopes Shiro would notice him. Now, he just has a lump in his throat, and he feels kind of sick.  

Shiro narrows his eyes, reading, “Hi, Natalie from Atlanta! Oh wow, we have someone from Tokyo. Konnichiwa! I don’t know enough Japanese.”

“Isn’t it, like, 3 a.m. there?” Adam’s voice asks from off-camera. The chat starts freaking out, messages coming in so fast Lance can’t even read them. He tries to remind himself that they’d be freaking out whether or not he’d tweeted anything.

“I have very dedicated fans, Adam,” Shiro says, and he turns the camera to Adam, who’s in Shiro’s kitchen, leaning up against the counter that separates it from the living room. “Oh yeah, Adam’s here.”

He waves, but only just before the camera spins in the other direction and lands on Keith. He’s on the couch beside Shiro with his legs pulled up under him. He’s in his pajamas with his hair up, looking tired in the cute way only Keith can look. Lance’s stomach flips involuntarily, and he regrets missing that feeling.

“And my assistant, Keith.”

“Shiro, I don’t have pants on,” he whines, and Lance snorts, also involuntarily. He puts on a straight face quickly, even though Keith can’t see or hear him, reminding himself over and over what Keith did, that he can’t be charmed back into being smitten.

This is exactly why he can’t talk to him yet.

“Well, I told you to get dressed,” Shiro says. He puts the camera back on himself, and Lance can relax. At least with Shiro, he can disconnect from him and put him back in that celebrity position. “So, whose fault is that?”

Shiro starts to read through the chat again, which is still talking about Adam, but also includes a message every few seconds about how cute Keith is. It makes Shiro smirk, but it makes Lance want to leave the livestream completely.

“Everyone’s saying you’re attractive and is asking for your insta,” he tells Keith, who barely laughs. “You know, it’s because he looks like a kpop idol.”

The chat starts spamming various forms of “JUNGKOOK” and Shiro relays the message back to Keith. He puts the camera on Keith again, this time for much longer, and Lance focuses down on the chat so he doesn’t have to look. It’s not like he has any clue what they’re talking about. Now, all of the fans are pointing out how he’s wearing a BTS shirt, which only gives Lance’s a tad more context.

“I look nothing like Jungkook,” Keith says. “Honestly, that’s Jungkook slander.”

“That’s not what the consensus is,” Shiro says, still pointing the camera at Keith.

“Shiro, I don’t think anyone is here to talk about how I look like a member of BTS,” he says, which shuts Shiro up and makes him put the camera back on himself.

He clears his throat, eyes widening just enough for Lance to notice, and Lance’s stomach sinks. Shiro’s about to say it, and he looks scared out of his mind. Lance feels bad, but why should he feel bad? They’re the ones that should feel bad, but he can’t help it.

“Right, so, hi everyone,” Shiro says. “So, I wanted to do this because I’ve been hearing a lot of rumors, and I—Oh, wow. 350 thousand viewers, that’s insane. I don’t think I’ve ever had this many.” He swallows, forcing out a laugh. “Well, I wanted you to hear it from me because, you know, a lot of people are speculating…”

His cheeks are turning pink, and in comes Adam. He takes the phone from Shiro and scoots up close to him, trying to keep him in the small frame of the camera.

“Shiro and I are dating,” he says simply, and the half of Shiro’s face that’s still on camera pouts. Now, the chat is rapid fire, full mostly of “WHAT” and “OMG” as though the fans hadn’t a clue. Lance can’t help but roll his eyes.

“I was going to say that,” he says.

Adam turns part way to look at him, glancing briefly at his lips like Lance has noticed he frequently does. “You looked like you were going to have a panic attack, Takashi.”

Now the chat is exploding with “TAKASHI,” which Lance can’t roll his eyes at, because the first time he heard Adam call Shiro that, that’s all his brain would repeat too.

Adam turns back to the camera, “So, you know it sucks lying about stuff and keeping it secret,” he says, “but it’s not really a great idea to date your costar in the first place, especially when you’re dating them in the show. A bad breakup would be pretty disastrous for that.”

“Yeah,” Shiro says, and he takes the phone from him, bringing him back fully into the frame. “But it’s gotten pretty serious, I’d say?”

He looks to Adam, who’s now-half-face looks whipped as hell. He nods, eyes darting to Shiro’s lips again and back up.

“And people do it all the time, even if it’s not a good idea,” Shiro tries to laugh, “So, there’s really no point to keeping it a secret anymore—how in the hell is there half a million people watching this?”

His voice breaks as he says it, and he focuses back in on the chat. Adam leans against him with a sigh. “Kashi, you don’t have to read—”

“No, I’m not mad at Lance,” Shiro says, and the sound of his name startles Lance out of his skin. Shiro backs away and his eyes dart in Keith’s direction before looking back toward his audience. “Like I said, there wasn’t really, you know, a reason for it to be a secret anymore. So, it’s fine.”

“It would’ve been great to have a heads up, though,” Adam says while Shiro continues to look for questions in the chat.

“Yeah, well, it would’ve been great to have a heads up that I was being lied to,” Lance mumbles, “but go off, I guess.”

“So, yeah, I’m friends with Lance. Everything’s cool,” Shiro pulls away from reading again, and Lance’s stomach is sent further into his ass. “I mean, he’s Keith’s friend mostly, that’s how I met him. He was dog sitting for him for a while. They’re going through something right now, but that’s between them. I don’t think that had anything to do with his tweet. Yeah, that’s—that’s between them.”

He looks into the camera, and Lance can tell it’s a plea, just in case he’s watching. _Don’t tell anyone about this, please. Just talk about it with Keith privately, keep it between you two._  Lance closes out of the app and locks his phone. He leaves it in his room to go help Rachel, certain he’ll return to ten times more messages on Twitter than before thanks to Shiro.

He wasn’t going to tell Twitter about Keith, anyway. It would only send more hate his way, and the only person it would embarrass is him. And he’s already embarrassed enough.

        

-

 

Allura has called Keith four times throughout this livestream, and he’s planning to do whatever it takes to ignore her for as long as possible. Luckily for him, she’s stopped calling for today. Twenty minutes have passed without her name showing up on his screen, so he’s safe for now.

When she finally does get ahold of him, he’s going to have to either explain how he knew about Adashi this whole time, or he’s going to have to lie and say he had no idea. He’d rather do neither.

Shiro and Adam are finishing up the stream, talking about how Kerberoswill be going on a mid-season break soon and how thankful they are for all of the support. The conversation surrounding their relationship, at least, only lasted for a few minutes and now it’s just a normal livestream.

Shiro hasn’t nervously noted the amount of viewers since that conversation ended, but the last Keith heard, it was at 600 thousand. But that’s nothing compared to the amount of people that will end up seeing the stream after it ends. Keith didn’t have the heart to tell Shiro that, with 15 million Instagram followers, the clips of his stream are bound to be posted to YouTube for even more people to see. But he’s sure he knows, somewhere deep down.

For now, Keith’s distracting himself from his impending doom with Allura by looking at pictures of Jungkook and trying to find a resemblance between himself and the idol. He doesn’t see it.

“That went okay, I think,” Shiro says eventually. Keith didn’t even hear him say goodbye. He blinks up at them just in time to see Adam kiss Shiro.

“It went great,” Adam says, “but I’m not sure we had to do a whole livestream.”

“Yeah,” Keith says, “you probably could have posted a photo of you guys being date-y and called it a day. Then no one would have had to see me in my boxers.”

“I still would have,” Adam says, scrunching his nose at Keith, who flicks him off.

The two laugh, and he’s lucky Adam’s not mad at him either. It’s Shiro’s doing, probably, and he’s instead directed his annoyance about the situation toward Lance.

Shiro’s now fixated on his phone, scrolling through something. His eyes flick back and forth as he reads, slouched over with his chin in his hand. Adam takes the phone from him and pockets it.

“Yeah, we’re not going to read what anyone’s saying,” he says, and Shiro frowns at him. “You didn’t read any of the comments on your coming out video, did you?”

“Actually, he read all of them and every article about it,” Keith says, “which is why I ended up taking over his social media.”

“Okay, so that just proves my point,” he says to Shiro. “Also, it’s probably impossible at this point for you to read every comment and article, Takashi, so I’m not going to let you go crazy trying.”

Shiro’s shoulders sag and he falls back against the couch cushions. “So, I shouldn’t look and just pretend what everyone’s saying isn’t a garbage fire?”

“Yes,” Adam says. There’s a knock at the door then, somehow embodying both softness and intensity at the same time. “Unless that’s a crazy fan that somehow found your address through that livestream, then we should probably see what people are saying in case there’s more.”

He gets up to open the door, both his and Shiro’s phones still in his pocket. Instead of a fan trying to kill Shiro, it’s Allura, looking like she wantsto kill Shiro. Her hand is up, ready to knock again, and she doesn’t try to look pleasant as she greets them.

Keith pulls his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs, and hopes that’s enough to make him invisible.

“Oh, uh, hey Allura,” Adam says, moving to let her inside, but she doesn’t move from where she’s standing.

“We’ll discuss _this_  at a later time,” she says, pointing between him and Shiro. “Presently, Shiro is roughly an hour late to the photoshoot for the biggest brand deal of his career.”

Keith snaps his head up. “What?” he asks. “The Calvin Klein shoot isn’t until next month.”

“The company rescheduled it for this date,” Allura says, her patience clearly running thin. “You would have known that if either of you bothered to answer my telephone calls or read my text messages in the last two weeks.”

“Shit,” Shiro says. He gets up, running his hands through his hair and rubbing his eyes. Adam hands him his phone as he nears the two of them. “Sorry, ‘lura, it’s been—”

“I don’t care for any excuses,” she says. “We must go. You’re fortunate they’re willing to wait on you.”

“Right,” Shiro nods, stepping into the pair of shoes closest to the door. He doesn’t exactly look presentable for something as big as Calvin Klein, but there’s nothing anyone can do, much less Keith.

“And I’m finding you a new assistant,” she says. She says it so offhandedly, so like Keith isn’t in the room, that he barely registers it at first. But when he does, all of the air leaves his lungs.

“Allura, let’s not—” Shiro starts, heading out the door.

“It’s nonnegotiable, Takashi,” she says, and the name is much less fond coming from her mouth. “He’s fired.”       

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's be friends!  
> [TWITTER](http://www.twitter.com/stephclaires)  
> [ART INSTA](http://www.instagram.com/literatidraws)  
> 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Keith and Lance miss each other, and Keith finally takes action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is the result of me losing the first version of it and then having to rewrite it I hope its okay!! I think there will only be one or two chapters left, depending on how much I draw sumn out in the next chapter. We'll see :) enjoy!

**NEARLY TWO MONTHS LATER**

**SATURDAY, JUNE 29**

_Dear Keith Kogane,_

_Thank you for your interest in the recent opening for Art Tutor. This is to inform you that the position has been filled. Thank you for sharing your credentials with us, and we wish you the best in your career search._

“So, what you’re telling me is that you have a sugar daddy.”

Keith sighs, shoving his phone back into his pocket. He snatches a fry from the basket in front of him, chewing with frustration. He shouldn’t have checked his phone in the first place.

It takes him a moment to register what Acxa said, but when he does, he pulls his head back and squints at her. “What? No!” he says. “That’s disgusting.”

She takes a bite of a fry and laughs. “He’s paying for your apartment – which is four grand _a month_ – along with anything else you could possibly need. He’s not your dad, so he’s your sugar daddy.”

“It’s not like I want him to be paying for everything,” he mumbles. “And I don’t think that’s how it works. He’s practically my brother. That’s so gross.”

Acxa drowns a few more fries in ketchup and scarfs them down, smirking. “Sugar brother,” she says.

“Sure,” Keith laughs. He takes another fry and tries to stomach it, shifting in his seat. “As long as that doesn’t imply anything weird.”

If there was one word to describe the last month and a half, it would be “uncomfortable.” Although Keith had some money saved up, Shiro insisted on paying for everything while Keith looked for a job. He’s been trying desperately to find one, just to get Shiro to stop spending so much on him, but that’s proven to be a losing battle, too. It’s hard to find any job, at least one well-paying enough to stay in L.A., when you had a 2.0 GPA in high school and your only job since then has been getting coffee for your best friend. A simple job, he might add, that you somehow got fired from.

On top of that, Keith has been so tragically alone. He never realized how much time he spent around people until the first week off the job. He no longer has clearance to be on the _Kerberos_ set, and Allura doesn’t even want him accompanying Shiro to any interviews or appearances. He has a new assistant for that – some recent college graduate who, in the few times Keith has met her, seems like she’s constantly holding in how much of a fan of Shiro she is.

He barely sees his best friend anymore, Lance is gone, and there’s only so much time he can spend drawing in isolation before he goes insane. The only time he ever leaves his apartment is to walk Kosmo, which isn’t the most social thing in the world.

Keith finally broke yesterday and texted Acxa, who was more than happy to invite him out. When she suggested he come by to the bar during her lunch, he thought it would be fine. But now that he’s here, for the first time since his chance encounter with Lance, all he can think about is the bright-eyed boy. It’s why he checked his phone in the first place, and even now that Keith knows he’s not going to receive a text from him soon, his fingers twitch to check it again.

“So, you haven’t gotten any interviews at all, then?” Acxa asks, taking a sip of her water. “That’s such bullshit.”

“No, but,” he sighs, “Shiro was talking about maybe promoting my art so I could get commissions.”

He’s been trying to look at this whole thing as a fresh start, so he doesn’t want to have to rely on Shiro. But at this point, when he hasn’t gotten a single interview, he probably has to. At least a little bit.

“Oh my god, or,” Acxa says, “or he could pay your way into USC. You could be on the rowing team.”

“I actually hate you,” he laughs, and she shrugs. “He’s not _that_ rich.”

“You could always work here,” she says. “I’d put in a good word.”

At that, his shoulders fall. He looks around the bar in the dim light, taking everything in and considering it for a second. It’s not bad now, but it’s also four in the afternoon. He’s seen it late at night, crowded with college kids. And then of course, he thinks of Lance too, and he shakes his head.

“If Lance’s outgoing ass hated it, I definitely will too,” he says.

There it is: his name, out loud and in the air now. He regrets saying it as soon as it leaves his mouth. The conversation has shifted with just a single syllable spoken, and Acxa softens. Keith, on the other hand, immediately tenses up.

Acxa is the one and only person outside of the situation that he’s had to tell. He explained the entire thing to her when he texted her earlier, and it was hard enough through text. Putting everything that happened into words just proved to Keith that he is one hundred percent the idiot in this, and he’d rather not go through that again.

“How long has it been since you guys talked?” she asks, and at least she’s not asking him to repeat everything. He’d probably throw up the two French fries he ate if he had to tell the whole story out loud.

“Uh,” he clears his throat. “Fifty-eight days.”

This sends Acxa into another fit of giggles, so much so that she snorts. She covers her nose, waving her hand at him. “Sorry, sorry,” she says. “It’s just – if you told him you were counting, he’d take you back in a heartbeat.”

“What do you mean?” he sinks in his chair. “It’s not like I’m writing him a letter every day or anything. I can’t even check up on him through Twitter. I think he blocked me.”

“Wait, really?” she asks, calming down now.

“Yeah, I mean,” he plays with his fingers, “I don’t know. His profile just doesn’t come up when I search his user anymore.”

“Maybe he just deleted it.”

Knowing how much Lance used Twitter, it doesn’t seem likely. So Keith just shrugs. “Yeah, maybe.”

“But also, it doesn’t matter if you don’t write him a letter every day,” she says. “He’s into that romance garbage hardcore. Especially movie-style romance, like counting the days you’ve gone without talking.”

“His favorite movie is _Jaws._ ”

“He’s also seen _Serendipity_ twenty-seven times,” she says. “Probably more since I last saw him.”

As soon as she says this, her phone starts going off on the table, startling both of them. Out of impulse, Keith peeks over to look at it, just in case they somehow spoke Lance into existence and it’s him calling. But it’s just Acxa’s timer going off.

“Shit,” she says, licking French fry grease off her fingers before going to turn it off. She slurps the rest of her water until she’s just nosily sucking up air through the straw. “My lunch is almost over.”

She stands, balling up her napkin and tossing it into the basket of half-eaten fries, clearly noticing that Keith was barely eating any to start with. But she makes no move to leave yet.

Instead, she leans against the table, supporting her weight with one hand against it. “You know,” she says, “Rachel’s still in town doing some movie. If that matters at all.”

“What?” Keith blinks. “How do you even know that?”

“I may or may not have gotten his sister Veronica’s number when she visited for Christmas,” Acxa says, and he can see, even in the dim light, that she’s blushing. “And if you want to know how Lance is doing, she said he’s been moping around, and no one knows why. Do with that information what you will.”

“Oh,” he says, “thanks.”

“Should I tell her?” she asks. “I mean, I’ll totally keep it to myself if you want.”

“You don’t think he’s told his family?” he asks. Keith understands Lance not telling Twitter, but his family is an entirely different story, especially knowing how close they all are.

“No, at least not Veronica,” Acxa checks her phone again and sighs. “I really have to get back to work, but you’re welcome to stay and sit at the bar.”

“I should probably go, actually. Just in case Shiro—” he shakes his head, rolling his eyes at himself. Not his job anymore. “Anyway, I should probably take Kosmo out. It’s been a few hours.”

“Alright. Well, you can always text me, okay?”

“Thanks,” he presses his lips into a grin.

But for a minute, as Acxa goes back behind the bar to relieve her coworker and continue serving the few daytime patrons, Keith doesn’t move. He has to process everything he just learned, and in all honesty, he’s not sure _what_ to do what that information. Any of it.

 

-

 

Lance has his camera held above him as he lies in bed and peers at the photo of his _Baby Driver_ poster in the viewfinder. He adjusts the aperture and ISO, sits up on his elbows, and takes another photo of the poster in front of him. Then, he turns over and takes a photo of Rachel’s empty side of the room. Adjusts, and takes another.

Sweat coats his forehead even though the standing fan is blowing right on him. This is all he’s been doing all day, but at least he’s doing something. The past two months have passed by quickly as he spent almost every waking hour playing _Cooking Fever_ on his phone, and anyone would be proud to see him doing something other than that.

There isn’t much else he could do. Not when he still refuses to text his friends back or hang out with them. He knows the second he sees them, they’re going to bring up Shiro and all of the drama he’s been a part of, and if he acts like he doesn’t want to talk about it in the slightest, they’re going to ask what his problem is. He’ll either have to make up an excuse or tell them the truth, which he’d rather not do. He’d rather not rehash his embarrassment ever again.

So, he can’t text them, and he can’t text the only person he doesn’t have to explain himself to. Rachel got the part she was auditioning for, and now she spends all of her time on set or working at Starbucks, and any time she’s not doing that, she’s sleeping. She barely gets the chance to text him back twice a day, if at all.

Lance doesn’t have Twitter to pass time with, either. No, he deleted that nearly the second he stepped off the plane. He was still getting hate every time he opened his notifications, but the worst part was that every few minutes after Shiro’s livestream, he’d see a new tweet on his timeline about Keith. Someone was always comparing him to Jungkook, talking about how hot he was, or saying something along the lines of “If I don’t have a chance with Jungkook/Shiro, at least I might have a chance with Shiro’s assistant.”

At one point, he started to type, “He’s gay, you assholes, and he was supposed to be mine.” He ended up just backspacing, going to his settings, and hitting deactivate. The entire app was just a reminder of the fool he made of himself, anyway.

It’s not like reminders didn’t exist elsewhere, though. He still goes to text Rachel and, every few days, lets his text thread with Keith catch his eye. He’ll scroll through and read the whole thing, just letting it damper his mood once again.

He’s too aware that he should be getting over it now, two months later. But he can’t. He really can’t, not after he almost had something there; he barely even got a taste. It feels as though he and Keith climbed to the top of Mt. Everest together, only for Keith to push him off the ledge before he even got a chance to admire the view.

It still stings, even now, and he’s keen on staying in this bed until it passes. He’ll let the summer slide by until he can move back to L.A. and hopefully feel better. Maybe better enough to talk to Keith.

There’s a knock at his door, and before he can answer, his niece Nadia is pushing it open and walking in, her tennis shoes lighting up with each heavy step. He sets his camera beside him and tries to give her a smile, but he knows it ends up looking forced.

“Tío Lance?” she says, holding a bowl out to him. “Abuela said to bring this to you.”

“Thanks, Nadi,” he says. He sits up and scoots to the edge of the bed, taking it from her. It’s a bowl of fruit – cut up peaches and strawberries – and he pops a piece of a peach in his mouth to appease her lingering gaze.

She jumps up on the bed beside him, pigtails swaying as she does, and for a while it’s quiet between them. Lance knows his gloom has been radiating off of him, so much so that even a 7-year-old could notice, but he doesn’t have the energy to be entertaining now. That alone, such a sharp contrast to his usual state, must give it away.

Nadia kicks her shoes against the bed frame and reaches into the bowl to help herself to a strawberry. As she chews, she says, “Want to play dolls? I just got a new one with purple and blue hair.”

“Maybe later,” he says.

“You said that last week,” she whines. Nadia smacks a sticky hand onto his knee and shakes it. “It’s laaater.”

He tries not to sigh. “Maybe your brother will play with you.”

“Sylvio went to the pool with Papá and Abuelo,” she says. “And I wouldn’t want to play with him anyway. He always makes my dolls kill each other.”

Lance laughs a little, scratching the back of his head. “What’s Abuela doing?”

“Making dinner,” she says, shaking his leg again with a pout entirely evident on her face. “I miss Tía Rachel. She always plays dolls with me.”

“I know,” he says. “I miss her too.”

Nadia jumps up to her feet, shoes right on Lance’s comforter, and wraps her arms around his neck. With the same sticky hand she had on his knee, she runs her fingers through the back of his hair. “Are you sad?”

“What? No, of course not,” he lies. “I’m totally fine.”

“You’re lying. I can tell, and everyone keeps talking about how you’re sad,” she says, tightening her hug around his neck. “What’s wrong, Tío Lance?”

This time, he really does sigh. He squeezes his eyes closed and presses a smile on his face, turning to her and tickling her side so she jumps off of him and back to the floor. “Alright,” he says. “I changed my mind. Let’s play.”

“What?” her eyes go bright and wide. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he nods, trying to look excited. At least Nadia knows nothing about Shiro and won’t ask. “Go get your dolls,” he says, standing up to move the fan and make floor space. “We can play in here.”

“Okay!” she says. “I’ll let you pick first since you’re sad.”

She runs out of the room, and Lance can hear his mom’s genuine amazement when Nadia tells her he actually agreed. He takes a deep breath and sits on the ground, placing the bowl of fruit beside him. While Nadia brings what seems to be her entire collection of dolls, clothes, and accessories in one handful at a time, he takes his phone off its place on the floor and hopes for a message from his twin.

But there’s nothing; just his _Kerberos_ lockscreen, which he really needs to change. He’ll have to think of something – maybe he could find a screencap from a movie. Or he could try to get into BTS or something, just to have another group of people to change his lockscreen to, but that would just remind him of Keith.

Keith. Now Keith’s on his mind, of course.

Nadia walks in again and plops down with the rest of her stuff. As she starts telling him the names of every doll, Lance unlocks his phone and pulls up his text thread with Keith. The same pang in his chest occurs like always.

He just wishes Keith would have tried harder. He wishes that Keith would have begged him more or had called anyway, insisting on explaining. He knows it’s stupid, since he’s the one who said he needed space, and someone demanding and persistent is not who he fell for anyway. Keith has his own walls up and he knows what it means when someone wants distance. If he was willing to impose himself upon Lance, he probably wouldn’t have pretended to be someone else in the first place.

But Lance is sick of looking at his own message from two months ago, and he’s sick of feeling so helpless. Sick of feeling _bad._ He’s tired of guessing why Keith did what he did, coming up with the worst possible scenarios, when he could just ask.

Slowly, he types “hey,” before backspacing. He glances up as Nadia explains one doll’s favorite things to do. Her name is Bayley, apparently, and when he looks up, he sees it’s the blue and purple haired one. When he returns his gaze to his phone, he starts to type again. He only gets as far as “I think I’m ready to talk n—” before Nadia stops him.

“Tío,” she says, taking the phone from him and putting it face down behind her. “You have to pay attention. If you pick the wrong one, you might regret it.”

“Right,” he says. “Sorry.”

It was probably a bad idea, anyway. Keith’s the one that left him on read, and Keith can be the one to contact him. He doesn’t want to be the vulnerable one anymore.

Even still, he picks one of Nadia’s only male dolls: an Asian-looking one, with floppy black hair. He hopes he hasn’t picked the wrong one.

 

**SUNDAY, JUNE 30**

 

Lance’s apartment looks different in the daytime. It might be because of the sunlight, but it’s more likely because Keith isn’t supposed to be here.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing here, exactly, anyway. There’s a chance Rachel isn’t home, and even if she is, he doesn’t know what to say to her. Acxa made it seem like Rachel could help him, but he never really believed it.

The only reason he’s here now is because he was tired of being inside his apartment. He got a taste of fresh air yesterday, and now his apartment is like a jail cell. So he got on his bike and ended up here.

Now he’s wishing he put more thought into where he was headed. He’s better off texting Lance and asking him if he can call him, if they can talk yet. He barely even _knows_ Rachel.

Keith straddles his bike, parked right in the same spot outside of the building that he picked Lance up the night of the party. He wants to feel the way he did that day: hopeful. Not like this. Helmet off, he doesn’t waste time and pulls his phone out right then and there.

But when he opens the message thread with Lance, there’s a typing bubble. Lance is typing to him, right then in real time. He’s so startled by it that he drops his phone and it clatters on the pavement.

Keith puts the kickstand down and gets off the bike to pick it up, hoping desperately that his screen hasn’t shattered. Shiro would insist on paying to fix it, which is another fight he doesn’t need to have.

Before he can even turn it to look, though, a pair of converse step into his line of sight.

“What are you doing here?”

He knows it’s Rachel before he even looks, and she doesn’t sound happy. He stands slowly, delaying meeting her gaze for as long as possible, and slips his phone in his pocket without looking at the screen. When they finally lock eyes, Rachel’s annoyance is palpable, and she’s ten times more intimidating without Lance as a buffer.

“I was just—” Keith swallows. “Um—”

“Lance went home weeks ago. I would’ve expected you to at least know that.”

She has a lanyard of keys clutched in her hands, sunglasses atop her head, and is clearly just arriving from somewhere. It’s just Keith’s luck that she’d catch him without him even having to buzz up to the apartment. It’s also obvious from the way she’s glaring at him that Lance has told her everything, which makes it even harder to focus on making intelligible sentences come out of his mouth.

“I’m here to—to talk to you, actually,” he says, clearing his throat.

She lifts an eyebrow at him. “Why?”

“I just thought—I don’t know,” he continues to stumble over his words. “Maybe I could explain everything to you, since you’re here.”

“Realmente piensa…fucking estúpido,” she mutters to herself, slipping her sunglasses back down. She starts to walk around him to the door, saying, “Explain it to Lance. I’m not the one you need forgiveness from.”

“He won’t talk to me,” Keith says, impulsively grabbing Rachel’s arm. She whips around, tugging her arm from his grasp.

“So, what? You thought I’d take your side?” she asks. “Over my brother, who I shared a womb with for nine months and a room with my entire life? After you made a joke out of him using the two things he wanted most? You’re delusional.”

“That wasn’t what happened,” he says, “I—”

“What was it then? A joke until you actually fell in love with him or something?” she asks. “That’s such bullshit.”

“ _No,_ ” he insists. “Rachel, can I just tell you—”

“I don’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth, honestly,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “And even if I did, what do you expect me to do? Lance is across the country, and he can make his own decisions. If he doesn’t want to talk to you, that’s his choice. I saw the way you looked at him and we _both_ want to believe you somehow did this with good intentions, but don’t try to put me in the middle.”

Keith’s shoulders fall. “You’re right. I guess I just—I don’t know. Sorry.”

“If he needs time, just give it to him,” she says. Keith nods, and there’s a pause. Rachel purses her lips. “And even if he forgives you, don’t expect to be on my good side any time soon.”

“Right.”

Rachel nods too, arms still crossed. Without another word, she turns around and heads inside. Keith doesn’t stop her this time. He swings his leg back over his bike and sits, letting his head fall into his hands. That’s exactly what he figured would happen.

He should just try to talk to Lance again. He knows Rachel is right about giving him space; that’s why he hasn’t tried texting him since May. But Lance _was_ typing something. Maybe he’s ready to talk.

This hypes Keith up enough to eagerly pull his phone back out right then and there again, ready to tell Lance the whole story. He won’t leave anything out, so there’s no chance that it seems like he’s lying.

But when he flips it screen-side up, he immediately notices two things: his screen is completely shattered, and there still isn’t a message from Lance.

 

 

Keith doesn’t even text Shiro before he stops by his apartment that night, which is a gamble considering how little he’s home these days. Even with _Kerberos_ on a mid-season hiatus, Shiro spends half of the week on set and half of the week doing promotional events or going to meetings or doing some other celebrity thing. After the Calvin Klein shoot was released, his demand for print advertising seemed to skyrocket.

When he does have time off, he spends it out of the apartment with Adam. Now that everyone knows they’re together, they’re making up for the time they had to spend hiding away. Which is great for them, but horrible for Keith, considering now any time he knows they’re in the apartment, there’s more of a chance he should be scared to walk in.

He doesn’t care right now, though. After the day he’s had, he just wants Shiro’s sage advice and maybe a glass of the expensive wine Shiro always has in his fridge. If he walks in and has to hear them moaning, he can just take the wine and walk right back out to continue having a shitty day.

The most likely outcome, though, is that no one is there at all. He’ll just get a glass and wait, getting minorly tipsy until Shiro arrives with his advice.

Keith turns the key in the lock, pushing the door open. To his surprise, Shiro’s there (alone, nonetheless), sipping a glass of wine himself and watching what appears to be a YouTube video on his phone. When Keith walks in, Shiro nearly chokes on his drink and jumps up.

“Keith!” he says. “I was literally just thinking of texting you. My dinner got rescheduled for next week.”

“Oh, thank god,” Keith says, trudging over to his friend and falling into him, body suddenly heavy. Shiro wraps a loose arm around him and chuckles.

“Let me show you something,” Shiro says, arm still around Keith’s neck as he leads him to his bedroom. They stop in front of a newly hung whiteboard on his wall, which is set up to look like a calendar. “Carly got this. She’s going to update it as soon as Allura tells her anything, so I see it as soon as I wake up every day and that Calvin Klein shit never happens again.”

“That’s great,” Keith says, and he tries to mean it. It’s great for Shiro, who relies on memory for most things he has to do. But he’s trying not to beat himself up for not coming up with it first. He knows it’s just the weight of the day pressing more heavily on his shoulders.

At the very least, he’s glad Carly is doing more than internally fangirling.

Shiro notices his mood shift, though, and he leads him back out of the room. Once they’re in the kitchen, he takes a wine glass out of the cupboard for Keith. As he’s pouring it for him, he says, “So you’ve been drawing a ton, right? I was thinking I could post a few things on my Twitter and send people to you.”

“Oh, uh,” Keith shrugs, taking a sip. “Maybe.”

“You might have to draw me a few times, but they’ll pay you.”

Keith chuckles lowly, shaking his head. “Maybe I should just post it myself,” he says. “A bunch of your fans have followed me since the livestream.” _And relying on and hiding behind you has already caused one too many issues._

Shiro, always attentive, seems to pick up on this additional unspoken reason as he nods. He spins the wine around in his own glass and sits down at the table, still facing Keith. “Right, of course,” he says. “If you ever want me to retweet anything, though, I will.”

“Thanks,” Keith says, sitting across from him. He takes his phone out to check, for the thousandth time since he left Lance’s apartment, if Lance texted him. He was typing, he was. Keith saw it with his own two eyes. But still, there’s nothing.

He drops the phone on the table and suppresses a groan.

“Holy shit,” Shiro says, reaching out and tilting the phone up to get a better look at it. “What happened?”

“I dropped it,” Keith says. Through a mumble, he adds, “I thought I saw Lance typing a message to me, but it was probably just a glitch.”

He takes a full-on gulp of his wine this time as Shiro continues to squint at his screen. “It looks like you dropped it from a 20-story building,” he says. Then, quickly, he adds, “You know, _Kerberos_ is partnered with Apple. I could probably get you a whole new one. The newest model, even.”

“ _Shiro_ ,” Keith whines immediately, already having expected this. “Stop doing things for me.”

Shiro’s shoulders fall in surrender, though, a lot sooner than he was expecting. “I’m sorry. I just feel really guilty.”

“So, you want to control it,” Keith says. He finishes up his glass quickly and gets up to pour himself another one. “If you want to help me, let me figure things out. It’s probably about time I did, anyway.”

“Okay,” Shiro breathes, holding his hands up. “At least let me keep paying for your rent so you don’t have to move away.”

Keith has to say, moving would definitely suck, so it’s a reasonable compromise. “Fine,” he says. He makes a show of looking around the apartment. “Where’s Adam? Wasn’t he going to that dinner too?”

“You know, Keith,” Shiro says, “we hang out with people other than each other.”

“I never would have guessed.”

Keith takes this glass of wine much slower than the first, coming to accept that he’s going to have to wait until late August to talk to Lance. At least it’s not never. That’s a plus, maybe. And thanks to Shiro paying his rent, he does have money to get his screen fixed. So everything is not completely the end of the world.

It isn’t until he gets up to get a third glass, already quite tipsy, that Shiro picks his phone up and squints at it again. Keith already starts to groan, waiting for him to insist on getting him a new one.

Instead, he says, “I can’t tell if this is right, but I think Lance just texted you.”

Just like his phone, Keith nearly drops the bottle of wine on the floor. He steadies himself, though, and places it slowly on the counter. But then he practically runs back to the table, tripping over his feet and splashing some wine from his glass onto the tiled floor.

He sets the glass down, wrenching his phone from Shiro’s hand and unlocking it so quickly he thinks he might get a piece of glass stuck in his thumb.

There it is, somewhat cracked thanks to his screen and blurry thanks to his vision. One simple word:

 

**Lance:**

> hi

 

Keith breathes deeply, letting himself sit down before he falls over completely. He somehow has to sober himself up in the next ten seconds before he ruins things again.

One key at a time, he types back his response.

 

**Keith:**

> hey

 

**Lance:**

> my sister texted me about you coming by the apartment

> she’s pissed off lol

 

Right. That sobers him up enough. Maybe he’s already ruined everything beyond repair. He starts to type again, even slower than the last time, and Shiro gets up to watch the conversation unfold over Keith’s shoulder.

 

**Keith:**

> I don’t really know what I thought would happen

> This is just driving me inane tbh

> insane***

 

**Lance:**

> We can talk soon, if you want

> I think I’m ready

> otherwise I’ll keep making stuff up in my head that’s probably not true or at least I hope isn’t true

> you weren’t trying to murder or sex traffic me eventually were you??

 

**Keith:**

> No omg

 

**Lance:**

> good lol

> maybe we could facetime or something?

 

Keith reads the message three times over and turns back to look at Shiro. He asks, “I shouldn’t talk to him now, when I’m three glasses in, should I?”

“No,” Shiro says immediately. “That’s what got you into this mess.”

“You’re right.”

 

**Keith:**

> yes!! I can’t right now though :/

 

**Lance:**

> me either

> you spend two months isolating yourself and as soon as you show any sign of being social your family won’t leave you alone lol

 

**Keith:**

> Lance I’m really sorry

 

**Lance:**

> don’t worry about it

> I’ll text you when I can talk

 

**Keith:**

> okay

 

“Well, that’s good, right?” Shiro asks, returning to his spot across from Keith. “I mean, aside from him being depressed because of us.”

Keith lets out a breathy, humorless laugh. “Yeah, I think so.”

He just hopes his explanation is good enough to warrant forgiveness. Regardless of his intentions, he knows well enough that what he did was shitty and that it could go either way.

Just as he’s about to lock his phone, another text comes through. This one is from a number not saved in his contacts.

 

**???:**

> Hey, Keith. This is Lance’s sister Veronica! Normally I wouldn’t do this, but Acxa sort of begged me. She said I could help you with something? And that it involved Lance?

 

Keith blinks. He’d texted Acxa earlier about what happened with Rachel, and she claimed she’d figure something else out. He didn’t think there was anything _she_ could possibly do, but this is apparently what she’d figured out.

He’s about to text Veronica back and tell her it’s not necessary anymore, that he was able to fix things himself. But then he remembers what Acxa said about Lance’s obsession with romance.

It might be his intoxicated brain talking, but he thinks he has a brilliant idea.

 

**Keith:**

> yeah actually. I just need one small thing.

 

“What would you say if I told you I was about to do something crazy?” Keith asks Shiro, lifting his wine glass to his lips.

“I would tell you to let me have in on it, obviously,” he says. He adds quickly, “Unless it’s illegal, or could ruin my career.”

Keith’s laugh is genuine now. “I think I’ll leave you out this time, actually.”

 

**TUESDAY, JULY 2**

 

The dull silence of being underwater is just as comforting as always, and just like always, Lance hates coming back up for air. His mood on Sunday, after texting Keith, was good enough to make these plans with his friends. But after texting Keith this morning to see if he could call him and getting no reply, that mood was promptly squashed.

Lance holds the coin in the air, pulling his hair out of his face, as Pidge, Hunk, and Matt all break the surface too. They watch him expectantly. “Uh, Matt,” he points, “truth or dare.”

“Dare,” he says simply.

“I dare you to…” he pauses, trying to think. Normally he’s great at this game and the dares come to him easily. But his head’s not in it. He knew he shouldn’t have let himself be vulnerable with Keith anymore. “…I don’t know. Drink a cup’s worth of pool water.”

“C’mon man, that’s lame,” Matt says. “I’ve been drinking pool water every time we dive for the coin.”

“Then run around screaming about how you have lice or something,” Lance says. It’s a dare he gave someone in high school, but it’s the first thing he could think of other than pool water. “I don’t care.”

This seems to satisfy Matt, and he gets out of the pool with shining eyes. As he starts to skip around the deck, Lance pushes himself back under the water. Muffled, he can hear Matt scream, “FUCK! I HAVE LICE!”

When Lance comes back up for air again, Mrs. Holt is poking her head out the sliding door. “Matthew,” she says, “You’re 24 years old. Please. You’re going to disturb the entire neighborhood.”

Matt only responds with a laugh, backing up so he can run and cannonball back into the pool. He splashes everyone, and Mrs. Holt goes back inside, shutting the door so she’s not one of them.

When he’s back up and ready, Lance tosses the coin again. He doesn’t even go for it this time. It’s Pidge who pops up with her hand in the air, holding the coin.

“Lance,” she says without hesitation. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth, I guess,” he says, but he regrets it immediately. This is Pidge, and he knows exactly what name is going to come out of her mouth.

“Why didn’t you tell us Adam and Shiro were dating?” Yep. There it is.

“Pidge,” Hunk groans, just as Matt snaps, “Katie.”

“I don’t see why it matters,” Lance says, wiping his nose.

“They’re our _ship_ , Lance,” she says. “Of course it matters.”

Lance thought he was lucky that none of them brought it up the whole time he was here. They talked about school, some girl Hunk likes, and what they think is going to happen in the new season of _Stranger Things_. He was even sort of, vaguely, having fun for a little bit. They don’t know the half of it, of course, but they must know his relationship with Shiro isn’t the greatest, especially after Lance revealed his secret.

And yet, even if they do, here’s Pidge bringing it up.

“He asked me to keep it a secret,” Lance says. “If I told you, you would’ve told one of your twelve group chats and it would’ve been all anyone was talking about in a matter of minutes.”

“No, I wouldn’t have.”

“Yeah, I’m with Lance on this one, Katie,” Matt says. “You definitely would have.”

“Whatever. You still could have told us before Twitter,” she says. “All I’m saying is you’ve been acting like you’re better than us ever since you _happened_ to meet him.”

“No, I haven’t. What are you even saying?” Lance asks, shaking his head. Without another thought, he swims to the edge and pushes himself out of the pool. Even swimming is reminding him of Keith, anyway. The last time he was in a pool was with him.

He grabs a towel from one of the deck chairs and sits down at the table. There’s another splash, and eventually Hunk is joining him. He hears Pidge say, “I was just being honest,” from behind them.

“Are you okay?” Hunk asks.

Out of all of them, Hunk is the only one who has even the slightest of clues about what’s going on. In the last few months, he was the only one Lance would text with updates about his life. He’d told him about Keith, about the house party and the date. He stopped updating him, though, when things turned upside down.

He knows Hunk wouldn’t judge him for it, but telling the same story where _he’s_ the idiot over and over again makes him want to puke.  

“I’m just having a bad day,” Lance says. “Things with Keith aren’t going as great as I thought.”

“Really?” Hunk asks. “Aw, man. It seemed like it was going really well.”

“Yeah, well,” Lance shrugs. “Maybe I’ll tell you about it later. It’s just a lot.”

Hunk nods, and Lance’s phone buzzes on the table in front of him. He hates how excited he gets at the thought that it could be Keith. He hates it, especially, because he knows it isn’t.

      

**Mamá:**

> Lancito will you be home soon?

> Your sister is here :)

 

Lance jumps up, earning him a weird look from Hunk. At least his serotonin in his brain didn’t go completely to waste. Of course, Rachel would surprise him the very day he isn’t home.

He pulls his shirt on, grabs his camera and phone, and starts to slip his shoes on. “I think I’m just going to go home,” he says.

“What?” Pidge asks. She swims quickly to the edge, hopping up out of the pool.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Hunk asks.

“I’m okay,” Lance waves him off. _For now, at least._ At least he’ll be able to talk to Rachel about all of this. He’ll be able to cry _to_ someone instead of just alone in his room. Pidge stops him right as he goes to open the back gate.

“Wait, Lance, I’m sorry,” she says. “It just sucks. I thought you would have told us, since we’d always theorize and stuff.”

“Yeah, but they’re literally just people, Pidge,” he says. “It’s not a TV show. And they aren’t even that great. Tell your mom I said thanks for lunch.”

He shuffles away before she can stop him again and say more. It’s not like he fully believes it himself yet. It’s still taking him a while to come to terms with the fact that Shiro, _his_ Takashi Shirogane, knowingly made a fool out of him. With Adam, nonetheless.

As he walks the block and a half home, he checks the footage he took on his camera today. It’s nothing special, just some shots of the pool and of his friends goofing off while eating. He’d probably be able to make it look cool after editing it, but even then, he’d be able to create much cooler stuff if he traveled. Or even if he was in L.A., since L.A.’s such a photogenic city.

His house is full of chatter and smells like ropa vieja when he steps inside, which only serves to excite him more. Everyone is here, apparently, and for the first time that doesn’t seem so daunting.

That is until he steps into the kitchen, looks around, and doesn’t see Rachel’s fluffy head of hair anywhere. They all greet him, but he weaves his eyebrows together.

“Mamá,” he says, over the sound of cabinets closing and silverware clattering. “¿Dónde está Rachel?”

“¿Qué?” His mom asks, gesturing to Veronica, who waves. “Your sister is here.”

“Oh,” he says, and he can’t help but sigh. It’s not like he didn’t see her a week ago. “Hey, V.”

“Not happy to see me?” She teases.

“Lance is sad about his boyfriend,” Nadia says from her spot at the table, and Lance shoots her a glare. That’s what he gets for telling her the doll he was playing as the other day looked like Keith.  

“Boyfriend?” His mom turns to him with eyebrows lifted. Veronica doesn’t seem so surprised, though. She drinks from her glass of water with a smirk on her face.

“She’s confused,” Lance says, causing Nadia to pout. “I just miss Rachel. That’s all.”

“Ah, mijo,” his mom says, mussing up his still-wet hair. “I’ve been trying to get her to come out, even just for a weekend. We’ll see. For now, go shower and get dressed. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Before he can move, though, there’s a knock at the door. It puts confusion on everyone’s face but Veronica, who jumps up and runs down the hall to get it. He hears her squeal, and then she’s calling him out there to join her.

“What?” he asks, dragging his feet. “I look like—”

For a reason unbeknownst to him, Acxa is hugging Veronica in his doorway. Acxa, as in his old coworker. As in, Acxa who should be in L.A. right now.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, but she doesn’t answer him. She moves just a tad to the right and there’s Keith. _Keith_ , with his hair half up in a bun and holding a bouquet of daffodils.

Approximately all air leaves Lance’s lungs in that moment.

“Hi,” Keith says. “Sorry I missed your text. I was on airplane mode.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's be friends!  
> [TWITTER](http://www.twitter.com/stephclaires)  
> [ART INSTA](http://www.instagram.com/literatidraws)  
> 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Keith asks for forgiveness and Lance has to make a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! The last chapter! I think there will be an epilogue, but otherwise thank you all for reading this! I hope this chapter is everything u hoped for..my mental health just keeps getting worse and so I honestly cannot tell if my writing is good or bad any more lmao

**ONE HOUR EARLIER**

**TUESDAY, JULY 2**

Keith’s phone buzzes in his pocket just as the bell on the door of the flower shop dings above him. In a matter of a few days, he bought two plane tickets from L.A. to Providence, Rhode Island, booked a hotel room, and convinced Acxa to find someone to cover her shift for today. Now he’s in Lance’s hometown, and his hands are shaking.

He takes his phone out, the screen still cracked, and it lights up with all of the notifications he missed while on the plane. They come through quickly; it’s mostly people following him on Twitter and texts from Shiro.

 

**Boss Baby:**

> let me know when you get there

> are you sure you don’t want me to come? I could tell everyone to deal without me for a day. It’d be the first snobby thing I’ve done it’d be fine

> okay well the CK thing was probably the first but

> totally different companies so it’s fine

> no you’re probably right he probably would be annoyed if I showed up too

> let me know how it goes!!

 

In the last few days, he’s also had to convince Shiro – and himself – that he could do all of this himself. Neither of them are fully convinced still, but at least he has Acxa with him. She’s already kept him from pulling his hair out, and that was just when there was confusion at the car rental place.

Apparently, there’s an extra fee for renting under the age of 25.

 

**Keith:**

> in RI now, don’t worry!

> DO YOUR JOB!

 

He’s about to just pocket his phone when he sees there’s still another unread message, and he clicks out of his thread with Shiro. His heart manages to speed up even more when he sees the notification belongs to Lance.

 

**Lance:**

> idk if you’re awake but I can talk now if you’re free

 

It’s from several hours ago, even with the time change. He stares at the message and hovers his thumbs over his keypad, unsure of whether or not to respond. This whole thing is supposed to be a surprise, but as of right now, Lance probably thinks he’s ignoring him.

Before he can come to any kind of conclusion, the bell dings above him again and the door hits him in the back, sending him stumbling forward.

“Oh, sorry, son,” a short, elderly woman says as she walks around him. She looks back with a little smile, “Probably should move from the doorway.”

“Yeah,” he breaths out a laugh, finally looking up and around at the store. All of the bright colors and sweet smells only serve to overwhelm him more. He runs his fingers through his hair, pulling it up and tying it in a messy half-bun, as he glances around for Acxa.

She’s on the other side of the small shop, sniffing a bouquet of daisies. As soon as he spots her, Keith ducks his head and makes a beeline to her.

“Do you think I should get Ronnie something?” she asks, picking up another bouquet and sniffing it. “I’m not really sure what we are, or even if she likes girls. We talk every day, but you know how it is.”

“I mean,” he shrugs, heart still slamming, “even if she doesn’t, friends get friends flowers.”

She puts the bouquet back, shaking her head. “No, I shouldn’t,” she says, and before he can say anything, she adds, “Why do you look so pale? Like, more than usual.”

“More than usual?” he says, but she just nods and waits for his response. He digs his phone back out of his pocket and shows her the message. “Lance texted me while we were on the plane. I feel like I should respond to him before he thinks I’m ignoring him.”

“It’s okay. He can wait,” she says. “It’ll be more of a surprise this way. Let’s just hurry up here and we can head over.”

“Right,” he clears his throat, pocketing his phone again. He’s still not entirely sure if showing up here was a good idea, and he doesn’t want Lance to be even _more_ mad at him. But Acxa knows Lance better than he does, so hopefully she’s right.

She wraps her arm around his neck and leans into him, leading him down the aisle of bouquets. “Do you know what you’re getting?”

“Daffodils,” he says easily. It’s the one thing in this whole trip he’s sure of. Acxa pulls away to look at him, clearly surprised by his certainty. “It was between that or hydrangeas,” he says. “But the website said hydrangeas can either symbolize gratitude _or_ heartlessness, so…”  

“Oh my god,” Acxa says, taking him by the shoulders. “You looked it up?”

“Well, yeah,” Keith says, feeling his cheeks heat up. “I wanted to be sure because I know _he_ would look it up.”

“He looked it up!” Acxa exclaims, wrapping her arm back around his neck. She stands on her tiptoes, pointing at Keith, and the guy behind the counter shakes his head. Keith ducks his head even further down; he probably thinks they’re dating or something. “No, but really,” Acxa says, quieter now, “good call.”

He ends up choosing a simple bouquet of yellow daffodils, delicately placing them on the counter and paying with shaky hands. With that errand out of the way, he makes Acxa drive. He’s far too nervous now to do anything but jiggle his knee, rattling the flowers in his lap, and try to figure out the probability of Lance shutting the door in his face.

He said he was ready to talk, which lowers the probability a bit. Keith never would have had the courage to do this otherwise.

But when they pull into the driveway of a big, baby blue house, all of that courage goes out the window. He’s pretty much stopped breathing at this point. Lance is inside, probably, not more than a few yards away, and this is Keith’s only chance to make things right with him.

Acxa opens her door as soon as she parks, and Keith grabs her arm. “The longer we wait, the more nervous you’ll get,” she says. “Come on, lone wolf.”

He drops his hand as she steps out, sighing. She’s right, but he can’t seem to remember anything he came up with to say, and if it doesn’t reappear in his brain soon, he’s going to mess this up for sure.

Keith gets out too, clutching the bouquet tightly in his hands and taking his time closing the door behind him. He takes slow steps after Acxa, staring up at the house. This is Lance’s house, where he grew up. And oh, god, Keith is overstepping. He’s definitely overstepping and he should have just called Lance like a normal pers—.

Acxa knocks before he can hesitate to do that too. Way too soon, there’s footsteps from the other side of the door, and without thinking, Keith takes a step back and hides behind her.

-

 

Lance’s first instinct is to run and hide in his room, but considering Keith has already seen him, he can’t do that. So he crosses his arms, creating a protective barrier between the two of them.

“Uh, h-hey,” he says, taking a short step toward everyone. He’s not sure he’s even processed what’s happening right now.

He missed Keith, and he wanted to talk to him. But now that Keith’s standing right in front of him, unexpectedly in the flesh, he’s realizing he mostly missed what things were like before Keith told him the truth, when he was still living with the idea that both Keith and Shiro we’re perfect people. He desperately wanted to go back to that.

But now every emotion he’s felt in the past few months, good and bad, is catching up to him, and he feels like he might throw up. His Kindergarten teacher was right – no one is perfect, and he doesn’t want to get hurt any more than he already has.

At the same time, though, it’s Keith. It’s Keith, and he’s traveled across the country, so they could talk in person. He’s standing there with his doe eyes wide and a bouquet of flowers in his hand, and he wasn’t ignoring Lance, he was _flying here._ If Lance had even a single ounce less of self-control, he’d kiss him right now. Because apparently, despite being hurt, he still feels just as much for Keith as he felt the last time he saw him.

“We’ll let you guys talk,” his sister says, seemingly somehow aware of everything between him and Keith. And somehow friends with Acxa.

She leads Acxa to the kitchen, but before they even enter, Lance hears his mom ask, “Is someone here for Lancito?” Lance absolutely books it to the door before she can come out into the entry way, shutting the door behind him and tugging Keith outside so hard he stumbles.

“What are you—?”

“I haven’t told my mom anything about you,” Lance says, pulling him further along the brick pathway, “and I’m not going to introduce her to you when I’m upset with you. That’s just weird.”

But Keith looks so cute, his tiny bun bobbing atop his head with each uneven step he takes, and Lance’s mom would love him. He knows she would. As long as he left out the lying part, which is the whole problem.

“Fair enough,” Keith says, and Lance drops his arm once they reach the end of the driveway. With his free hand, Keith scratches the back of his neck, and he holds the flowers out. “These are for you.”

“Oh,” Lance tries not to smile as he takes them. He’s never gotten flowers from anyone that wasn’t family before; he’s always been the one giving them.

He fixes his eyes downward, and for a second, he’s embarrassed. He’s still in his swim trunks, and his hair is curling at the ends in what he’s sure is the weirdest way possible. But then he remembers that Keith’s the one groveling, not him, and even though Lance looks a mess, he’s still the one in control. He, somehow, is not the one begging this time.

“So, is that…your thing now?” he mumbles mostly into the flowers before looking up at Keith. “Randomly showing up at a McClain residence?”

“Sorry,” Keith says, staring down at his own feet. “I thought it’d be…I don’t know. I wanted to talk in person. If you want me to leave, I’ll—”

“No,” Lance says quickly. “You’re here. We can—Let’s talk.”

“Okay,” Keith breathes, and he gestures to the car parked in the driveway, a rental. “We could go somewhere, if you want?”

Lance nods, taking sweeping steps toward it and getting inside, setting the flowers in his lap. The car dings as Keith opens the driver’s side door, and only stops once he’s inside and both of their seatbelts are fastened. The silence isn’t any less awkward inside.

As Keith backs out, Lance says, “It’s weird that you’re here.”

When he looks over at him, one hand on the steering wheel, Lance realizes he’s never seen Keith drive an actual car before. It’s attractive, like everything else he does, and somehow endearing. Lance has to look away. There’s a lot he’s never seen Keith do, that he doesn’t know about Keith, and there’s this aching part of him that still wants to.

He doesn’t want things to end here, but does that mean they shouldn’t?

“Did you grow up here?” Keith asks. “Or did you move here from somewhere else?”

“Don’t,” Lance has to say, and he clears his throat. He sees Keith glance at him while he drives, but he still doesn’t look at him. “If we start having small talk, we’re going to have a conversation about something irrelevant, and I’ll pretend nothing is wrong and you’re going to make me want to kiss you more than I already do. So, until we talk about you catfishing me as my literal idol, we can’t talk.”

Keith nods and continues driving without another word. It doesn’t take long for Lance to realize that Keith has no clue where he’s going, but Lance is the one who said they couldn’t talk, and now he’s going to have to watch Keith perplexedly maneuver his way out of his neighborhood.

Luckily, though, Keith makes it about two streets away from Lance’s house before he pulls over on the side of the road. He puts the car in park, unbuckles his seatbelt, and turns completely to Lance, clearing his throat. It catches Lance off-guard, and he tightens his grip on the flowers nervously.

He tries to tell himself this is better than them going somewhere. If it felt more like a date, he’d be likely to forgive Keith too easily. He has to look at this objectively. That’s not a thing he usually does, but according to Rachel, that’s apparently exactly why he keeps getting his heart broken.

“I liked you as soon as I saw your picture on Twitter,” Keith says. “I used to manage Shiro’s social media, and on the night that I liked your tweet, I didn’t even register that I was on his account.”

Lance’s stomach turns, and he looks away. He wants to hear this, but he knows no matter what Keith says, he’ll be at a loss. Because no matter the reason, Keith lied to him, and _objectively_ there will always be pros and cons to forgiving him.

“Half of that conversation we had that day, I didn’t even know you thought I was him. So you were asking me how my day was and telling me to wash my face, and you’re this attractive guy who apparently cares about my existence. I was going insane,” Keith goes on. There’s an insistence in his voice, pleading with Lance to understand. “And then the next day, I wanted to keep talking to you, but I didn’t think you’d talk to me as me. Not when you thought you were talking to _Shiro_ the day before, so I kept messaging you as him because I knew, at least, you’d reply to that.”

“So that just makes it…okay?” Lance asks, picking at the bottom of the daffodil stems.

“No,” Keith says, “No, but Lance, this is all—I’ve never experienced any of this before. I mean, I kissed a boy when I was in elementary school and James, and that’s it. I never had someone—someone like you giving me the time of day like that. I didn’t know what to—”

“You kissed James?”

“He kissed me,” Keith sighs. “But that’s not the point. I only went out with him because he looked like you, to distract myself from you, anyway.”

This takes Lance aback. He falls back against the headrest, finally looking at Keith. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t look anything like James.”

“Well, I thought you did,” he says, which makes Lance frown. “I didn’t think you lived in L.A., but then I saw you at the bar. And then you started watching Kosmo for me, so I really tried to stop messaging you as Shiro, but I kind of dug myself into a hole at that point.”

“So, if I didn’t live in L.A.,” Lance says, “you never would have given me the choice of knowing you? You just assumed I’d be an asshole.”

“I mean, when you put it like that, it’s shitty,” Keith says. “But I’ve lived in Shiro’s shadow since I was in middle school. I didn’t think…I didn’t think someone that’s a huge fan of him would care about _me._ ”

“Keith, I liked you before I knew you had anything to do with Shiro.”

“Yeah, well,” Keith sighs. “I realized that eventually.”

“No, I don’t think you actually understand,” Lance says. “I like you _more_ than him. Like, when I started working for you, I’d get a message from him and be disappointed that it wasn’t from you.”

Keith’s eyes widen, and he blinks down at his hands, trying to process it.

“Though, I guess it…was you, anyway.”

Keith snaps his head back up, turning to him. “Look, I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m really sorry. I wish more than anything I could go back and do the right thing, but I can’t.”

“I’m just going insane, Keith. Because it hurts,” Lance says. “I was going around thinking I was special because not only was I friends with the guy I looked up to for years, but _you_ were also in my life. I don’t know how to feel when it was all just a lie.”

“It wasn’t all a lie,” Keith says. “You are special. You’re one of the best people I know. You—you got me back into drawing, and you made me realize that I’m worth something. I just wish I could have realized it sooner to avoid all of this.”

Lance shifts in his seat, still picking at the flower stems.

“And Shiro, he thinks you’re cool,” Keith adds. “He _is_ your friend. Just because he didn’t talk to you on Twitter doesn’t mean anything. He didn’t talk to anyone on Twitter. That was all me.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” Lance all but whispers. “And he still lied to me. Adam, too. You all made me look so stupid.”

“That wasn’t…” Keith’s voice gets quiet too. “That wasn’t my intention. It was either that, or—”

“Tell the truth?”

“Which I did,” he says. “I actually…you know the Skype call? I was going to tell you then, but knowing you’d hate me, and possibly Shiro, made it hard. I know I made a big mess of things, but I just…I know better now. And I want a chance to be authentic with you, if you’d let me.”

“I don’t know, Keith.”

Memories from the last few months are coming back to him now, and he’s coming to understand the reality of each memory one step at a time. The Skype call, the date with James, all of the messages between him and Shiro and moments with Keith. He sees them from a whole new perspective. He’s still just not completely sure how he feels about it. It’s all making sense, but at the same time, it’s only becoming more confusing. And overwhelming.

“Do you think you could take me back home?” Lance asks.

“Lance—”

“Please.”

“…Sure,” he sighs before shifting back into drive and turning around in a random driveway. He doesn’t say a word until they pull back into Lance’s driveway, but it only takes a few minutes to get back anyway. “I feel like there’s so much more I could say,” Keith says once he’s parked again. “Everything I did, it was never with bad intentions. I was just stupid…a-and afraid. That’s what it was. I was afraid, and I didn’t think any of this would happen. I really wasn’t thinking at all. I’m—what can I do? To make things right again?”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Lance mumbles, unbuckling his seatbelt. Showing up here is more than anyone he’s ever dated or slept with would have done for him, and he knows that. He knows Keith isn’t bad – he can see it in the way he looks at him. “I just have to think. It’s a lot, you know?”

Keith nods.

“How…um, how long are you staying here?”

“Just—just for tonight.”

“Maybe we can actually have that call sometime soon?” Lance tries to smile, and Keith huffs out a laugh.

“Yeah, maybe.”

There’s a stillness in the car for a moment, neither one of them speaking. Lance doesn’t want to leave yet, and Keith’s nervously tapping his finger on the steering wheel.

Before he can think twice, Lance leans in. The cellophane around the flowers crinkles in his lap as he kisses Keith on the cheek. It’s mostly out of impulse, a strange withdrawal he’s felt the past few months and a longing he’s had the entire time in this car. It’s also to see if it feels the same, and it does.

It’s still different than with anyone else, and that was just kissing his cheek.

“I don’t want to hate you, Keith,” Lance says. He pulls the latch on the door, pushing it open. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

Keith’s cheeks turn pink, and he clears his throat. “O-okay.”  

Lance still doesn’t want to leave, even as he’s shutting the door. But that’s only because what he really wants is to take Keith around town, to his favorite diner and to the playground he always went to in high school, in the middle of the night when he’d be too stressed to sleep. He wants to tell Keith about his hometown and ask him about Texas. But all of that would involve forgiving him, which he can’t do yet.

Not until he fully processes all of this, which is going to take a while.

For now he clutches the daffodils to his chest, walking back to his house. He instantly hears the rattle of forks against dishes and the chattering of everyone around the dinner table. His dad calls out, “Mijo, is that you?” but he walks straight past the kitchen, dropping the flowers on his desk and falling face first on his bed.

 

-

 

Two days pass before Lance finally begins to confront the truth. Though he stays up late thinking, it’s mostly about the fact that Keith flew all the way out to Rhode Island just to have a fifteen-minute conversation with him in person. And to give him flowers.

They sit in a vase on Lance’s desk, all bright and open in the sunlight, and they never fail to remind Lance of his infatuation. If his brain didn’t constantly remind him of the reality, he’d choose to just forget about it and act like it never happened.

But it did, and he has to at least come to terms with that.

He starts by texting Hunk and giving him the vaguest of details: Keith lied to him about some things, but he showed up the other day with flowers and an explanation. But to get Hunk’s advice, being vague isn’t enough.

 

**Hunkules:**

> I mean, how big of a lie was it??

> he’s not married is he?

 

**Lance:**

> No ugh

> Look if I tell you don’t tell anyone else

> It’s kind of embarrassing

 

**Hunkules:**

> oh no did he lie about not having an STD

 

**Lance:**

> No hunk we haven’t even…

> Do you promise not to tell anyone?   

 

**Hunkules:**

> Scouts honor

 

**Lance:**

> You know how I was talking to Shiro on Twitter for a while?

> Well, that was Keith, not Shiro. He said it was an accident at first but then wanted to keep talking to me

 

**Hunkules:**

> WAIT WHAT

> But you met Shiro didn’t you?

      

**Lance:**

> Yeah Keith’s his assistant that’s why he was on his verified account

> It’s so weird like when we met Keith already knew who I was

> idk it’s just a lot

> like I have to go back through every day in my head and rework it

> I remember telling Keith about my dogs the first day I dogsat but he had already seen pictures of them lmfao like what idk its weird

 

**Hunkules:**

> Was he flirting with you as Shiro? Is that why you said that soulmate stuff that one time lol

      

**Lance:**

> No we were just

 

Lance stops for a second to think about it, about how little ‘Shiro’ actually talked about himself. At the time, he thought it was just because Shiro was busy and that all the information Lance was allowed to know could be found outside of their DMs. But it was Keith, sharing what little _he_ was allowed to share, and otherwise just…

 

> He’d just listen to me

> And give me advice

> We’d joke around sometimes

 

This spurs Lance into action. He clicks out of his messages and goes to the app store to redownload Twitter. He’s nervous he won’t be able to reactivate his account, but he logs in smoothly, and his familiar timeline appears. His notifications immediately turn to 20+, but he goes right to his DMs to find the ones with Keith.

Now that he’s not in shock and putting the pieces together, he can read through them clearly. Keith was consistently listening to him complain, talking him through panic attacks, and encouraging him. _He_ was the one who told Lance he was enough and wouldn’t be too much or too little for the right person. He inspired the mantra that gave Lance the courage to pursue whatever was beginning to happen between them.

It was all him, this guy Lance has fallen for. And even when Lance told him about the DMs, even when Keith introduced him to the actor, he let Shiro take all of the credit.

Another text from Hunk comes through.

 

**Hunkules:**

> was he doing it to mess with you?

      

**Lance:**

> That’s what I thought at first, but maybe he’s telling the truth…maybe he actually liked me from the beginning and didn’t know what to do. He’s said himself that he compares himself to Shiro, even when I didn’t know about this

> It’s just so much. Idk like the fact that we met and it all happened like this...

 

**Hunkules:**

> maybe you and keith are the ones who are soulmates :P

 

**Lance:**

> stop omg if you say that it’s all im going to think about

> I already feel that way he’s just so different. Before all of this he just made me feel like I was the best version of myself idk

> my hopeless romantic brain wants to believe the universe was like ok keith you did it wrong the first time here’s Lance’s dog sitting ad

 

**Hunkules:**

> If he makes you feel that way maybe you should give him another chance

> I can actually believe he was doing it out of insecurity, but only because he knows shiro

> If it were someone random I wouldn’t believe it

> And how many people care enough to show up at your house with flowers to begin with, let alone FLY ACROSS THE COUNTRY to show up at your house with flowers

 

**Lance:**

> literally zero

 

**Hunkules:**

> exactly

> much to think about  

 

There’s still one thing on Lance’s mind after looking through the DMs, and he leaves his text thread with Hunk to pull up Keith’s. He hasn’t talked to him since he saw him, which he can now say is typical of Keith. Shy away unless you know someone wants to talk to you.

 

**Lance:**

> Did you ask me to dogsit for you because you knew I needed a new job?

 

Though he’s shied away, Keith is quick to respond. The typing bubble pops up almost immediately after Lance hits send.

 

**Keith:**

> No I really did need a dogsitter, and when I texted you I didn’t know it was you

> But for honesty’s sake, I paid you more because I knew you were stressed about money. And I don’t regret that.  
  


Lance thinks back to that day, to how Keith insisted on paying him the thousands of dollars a week even when he said it wasn’t necessary. Without meaning to, he feels himself smile. Keith cares about him – he can say that with certainty. He cared about him when he barely knew him.

And the fact of the matter is, Lance is happier with him that he is without him.

 

**Lance:**

> Thank you for that

 

**Keith:**

> :)

 

Lance sighs, locking his phone and placing it facedown beside him. He stares ahead at his desk, the daffodils staring back at him. He needs a sign that giving Keith another chance is the right thing to do, that he’s not just naively believing in Keith’s goodness and isn’t actually going to get hurt again.

He squints at the flowers and picks his phone back up. Into Google, he types “daffodil symbolism.” That’s as much of a sign as he’s going to get right now.

 

“ _While the daffodil’s primary symbolism is of new beginnings, rebirth, and the coming of spring, it has many others. Some other meanings for daffodils include awareness and inner reflection, memory, and forgiveness.”_

Lance rereads the paragraph a good five times, his stomach flipping each time he does. Did Keith look this up? He doesn’t seem like the type to, but maybe he put even more effort in than Lance initially thought.

He gets up and raises the vase to his nose, inhaling the sweet scent. His shoulders fall, and he closes his eyes. Maybe he could start over with Keith, after giving himself some time, and they could make their relationship what it was supposed to be all along.

He doesn’t want things to end like this. That he knows for sure.

 

**SATURDAY, AUGUST 24**

      

Keith has learned two things since he returned from Rhode Island: spending entire days at home and going months without talking to Lance both make him go utterly insane.

After Lance got out of the car, Keith had to sit outside and wait for Acxa, cheek burning in the place Lance kissed it. He was alone with his thoughts, and wished he’d turned at kissed Lance for real. Even if it was one last time before he never saw him again.

Though Acxa listened to him tell her what happened, assured him there was still a chance, she also lied awake in their hotel room and excitedly told him that she thinks she and Veronica are actually a _thing._ Keith smiled along, internally wishing he could trade places with her. He wanted to feel that unfamiliar excitement over love again. He spent the plane ride back to California unsure of whether he should feel defeated or hopeful.

When Lance texted him two days later, he erred on the side of hopeful. But when he never heard from Lance after that, he figured defeated was probably safer.

“Lance is flying back home today,” Acxa says, dipping her paintbrush into blue paint to add to what looks like a whale on her canvas, but he can’t be sure. He’s found he gets the most done for his commissions at her apartment, and it might be because she’s so awful at art that it motivates him.

He lifts his eyebrows. “Really?” he asks, though he already knows. He’s embarrassed to admit he looked up when LMU was back in session weeks ago, and he’s been checking his calendar every day to see how close they were to August 26. He figured Lance would fly in a few days early, too.

“Mhm,” she hums, sliding her brush across the canvas in one smooth stroke. “Ronnie mentioned dropping him off at the airport this morning, so he could already be here, actually.”

Keith just nods, zooming out of his own piece on his iPad to get a better look at it. His plan is to text Lance in a week, if he doesn’t hear from him first. But he really hopes he hears from him first.

Right now, he’s working on a commission for one of Shiro’s fans. They asked him to draw Shiro as Spider-Man, and it’s sort of weird drawing fan art of his best friend, but he’s just glad no one has asked him to draw smut. He’d have to draw the line there.

Just as he’s using his stylus to find the right color for the Spider-Man suit, on the table beside him. He still hasn’t gotten his screen fixed, but once he makes enough from commissions, he’ll get around to it.

He figures it’s just Shiro or another fan with a request, but he has to do a double take when he sees Lance’s name on the screen.

 

**Lance:**

> are you home?

 

**Keith:**

> I’m at Acxa’s but I should be home soon

 

**Lance:**

> That’s okay!! Take your time!!

 

**Keith:**

> are you back in L.A.?

 

Though Lance doesn’t answer him, Keith can’t help but smile to himself. He sets his phone down and looks at Acxa, who’s still absorbed in her painting. “Lance texted me,” he says, and she lifts her head.

“See!” she says, reaching out to swipe blue paint across his arm. “I told you there was still hope. Not even a full day back and he’s texting you.”

“Shut up,” he mumbles, still smiling, and he checks his phone again. Still nothing, but it’s fine. For the next hour, he tries to focus on finishing the commission, but he’s too distracted now.

When he finally leaves Acxa’s, all he can think about is the text he’s going to send the second he steps foot in his apartment. He unlocks his door, mind elsewhere, figuring he could ask Lance if they could go somewhere and talk more. He’s now willing to do anything to make it right.

But the lights are on when his steps in, and he realizes he doesn’t have to. Because right in front of him sits Lance, petting a happy Kosmo on the couch in Keith’s living room.

“Hi,” Lance says, standing. “I thought this would be romantic, but now that you’re here, I’m realizing how creepy it is.”

“No, it’s—” Keith shakes his head, setting his bag down. “You’re back. And…not avoiding me. This is completely fine.”

Lance clears his throat, taking a few steps toward Keith. He holds his hand out, as if he wants Keith to shake it, and he says, “Hi, I’m Lance.”

“What?”

“New beginnings,” Lance says.

“What?” Keith asks again.

“The daffodils,” he says. “Just go with it.”

He knew he would look it up. So, Keith takes his hand and shakes it. “Um, I’m Keith. How did you, a random stranger whose name I just learned, get into my apartment?”

“ _Keith_ ,” Lance whines, doubling over and making Keith let out a low chuckle. When he stands up straight and composes himself, Lance says, “I heard you were looking for a dog sitter.”

“I actually don’t need one anymore,” Keith says, which makes Lance stop.

“Oh,” he says.

“But I have a friend. You might have heard of him: Takashi Shirogane,” Keith adds quickly, stepping closer to Lance. “He’s been talking about getting a guy named Lance a job on set as a peace offering.”

“ _Oh,_ ” Lance says, eyes widening.

“And even though I don’t need a dog sitter,” Keith takes another step to him. He considers his words carefully, still not entirely sure where he stands with Lance, “I’m always open to making friends with people who somehow have keys to my apartment.”

Lance further closes the gap between them, cracking a smile. They’re only about a foot apart now. “Would you be open to a boyfriend who somehow has keys to your apartment?” he asks. “And has tried to hate you but would rather give you another chance because he wants to know you as _you_?”

Keith swallows, lips parting, and he nods.

He steps one more foot forward, taking the chance and pressing his lips to Lance’s. He’s held himself back far too much, and he doesn’t want to regret it any longer.

And if Lance is willing to give him another chance, he’s going to do it right this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's be friends!  
> [TWITTER](http://www.twitter.com/stephclaires)  
> [ART INSTA](http://www.instagram.com/literatidraws)  
> 


	15. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lance and Keith are happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is iiiiiit! Thank you all for reading this and all of your nice messages along the way, I never would have gotten to the end without you.
> 
> I'm not sure what I'm going to do next! I'm definitely working on my novel that I used this fic to put off, but I still want to write fan fiction because…duh. I may be writing some BTS stuff, but :X I'll never leave Klance completely, I still have some KL ideas. So keep an eye out hehe

**ONE YEAR LATER**

**MONDAY, JUNE 8**

Keith awakens to a camera pointed in his face. Lance is above him, straddling Keith’s torso over the covers, with a cute, mischievous smile. He leans in a little, the lens nearing Keith’s face, and Keith scrunches his nose, covering his mouth to yawn.

“Oh,” he slurs sleepily. “Koo mornin’”

Lance started his YouTube channel not long after returning to L.A. last year, and while he began with artistic montages of life around the city, his internship on the _Kerberos_ set during his senior year quickly led him to start vlogging through his hectic days. He’s racked up quite a following, partially because of Shiro’s frequent cameos, but mostly because he’s, well, Lance.

Since then, his content has evolved to be a ton of different things, from vlogging to random challenge and reaction videos. Just a week ago, he pulled Keith in to bake cookies on camera – which was a disaster – and to answer questions about their relationship.

So, Keith’s pretty used to having the camera pointed at him, to say the least. Just not this early in the morning.

“Today’s an early vlogging day?” he asks, slowly tracing shapes on Lance’s thigh with his thumb. Usually, when he stays over, Lance will stay in bed until the last possible second, either clinging to Keith or Keith clinging to him. Today, though, it’s barely 6 a.m., and he’s already dressed.

“Keith Kogane,” Lance says, making his voice a pitch deeper. “You are the chosen one. Should you accept your quest—”

Keith gives him a lazy smile, bringing his hand up to rub his tired eyes. “What’s my quest?”

Lance sighs, and the camera beeps as he stops recording. He sets it beside Keith and moves so he’s lying on top of him. He buries his head in Keith’s neck and mumbles, “I’m nervous, and I need you to make me less nervous.”

“I accept my quest, then. You’re going to do great,” Keith chuckles, running his fingers through Lance’s hair. And because he’s a tad selfish, he says, “Maybe we could sleep more? You don’t have to be there until 8.”

“I can’t sleep,” Lance says, lifting his head. “I’m too nervous. What if they hate me? I won’t have Shiro to back me up and intimidate people into being nice to me at the studio.”

Keith sits up on his elbows and gives Lance a quick kiss.

“You won’t need him,” he says. “You’re probably better at editing than being a production assistant, anyway. You’ll be so good that _you’ll_ intimidate them.”

Lance shuffles around, scooting off of Keith and instead curling up beside him. Keith lies back down, turning his head only do see Lance pouting. “Do you think?” Lance asks, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“No, I know for a fact.”

Lance gives Keith a random kiss on his shoulder, then moves up to kiss his lips. It’s much less fleeting than the last, and he smiles beneath it.

“I love you,” they both seem to say at once.

Shyly, Lance buries his head back in the crook of Keith’s neck. Keith grins to himself, feeling Lance’s lips graze his throat. It’s always been mostly unspoken, more and more as their relationship progressed and they got into a routine of supporting each other.

That was the first time they ever said it out loud, and he honestly wouldn’t have expected anything less than saying it at the same time. If they end up getting married, they’ll probably propose at the same time too.

They lie there like that for a while, and Keith almost falls back asleep. He would have, if it weren’t for Kosmo whining at the foot of the bed. Now that they’re both awake, he’s expecting his morning walk, which Keith somehow got in the habit of doing despite the stress of commissions.

He’ll have to wait, though, because Keith’s going to milk this for as long as Lance will stay in bed with him.

“You succeeded in your quest,” Lance says, lips moving over Keith’s neck. “Now I’m just thinking of how much I love you. Or maybe my stomach is just flipping for more than one reason.”

Kosmo comes around to Keith’s side and paws at the bed, and Keith blindly reaches out to pet him in an attempt to convince him to give them a few. He keeps whining, though.

“You’re so cute,” he whispers to Lance. Then, a realization hits him. “Do you want breakfast? I meant to get up before you and make something.”

“You mean like burnt eggs?”

Keith frowns. “You said they were good.”

“You had to know I was lying,” Lance giggles, which only makes Keith laugh too. As they do, Kosmo jumps up on the bed and starts climbing over them. Lance’s laughter stops abruptly, and he sits up and grabs his camera before the dog can step on it or dirty the lens with his nose.

Keith sits up too, finally getting out of bed and clapping to lure Kosmo off. “I could make toast, or something,” he tries, but Lance is distracted. He feels Lance’s eyes on him, and glances down at himself.

He fell asleep in his boxers and a big, blue and white tie-dyed hoodie he stole from Lance. His hair was also in a ponytail when he went to bed, but most of it has fallen out of the hair tie overnight. It’s hardly anything to stare at.

When he looks up, Lance breaks his gaze, focusing instead on his camera. Still, he says, “How do you manage to look so good even when you’ve just woke—” he stops, squinting, and right before Keith’s eyes Lance sinks back into anxiety. “Shit,” Lance says.

“What?”

Lance starts to pat around the covers with reckless abandon. “Where’s my lens cap?”

He jumps up and pulls open the drawer of Keith’s bedside table, but quickly shuts it. Keith grabs his jeans from the floor and tugs them on as fast as he can as Lance starts to tear through the apartment.

He follows him out of the room, which only excites Kosmo even more, and Kosmo’s whining only serves to make Lance more anxious.

“I’ll look for it,” he tries. “You have to leave soon.”

“I need it,” Lance says, throwing a blanket off of the couch from their movie marathon last night. He digs his hand between the couch cushions and comes up with nothing.

“You need it?” Keith asks. “Do you even need your _camera_ to edit the studio’s footage?”

“No, but I’m taking _Takashi Shirogane and Adam Wright’s_ engagement photos right after,” Lance says, walking toward the kitchen, where a lens cap definitely won’t be.

Keith stops him before he can walk past, cupping Lance’s face in his hands. Lance lets out a breath and drops his shoulders, pouting.

“That’s today?” Keith asks, mostly in an attempt to tease him. Though he forgot about it in the midst of Lance’s anxiety, it’s all Lance has been talking about, even more so than the new job. Ever since Shiro told them his plans to propose and asked Lance to take the photos, he’d interrupt any moment with something like, “I can’t believe Shiro still trusts me with his secrets,” or “Do you think my pictures will be in magazines once he posts them?” or “What if other celebrities ask me to be their photographer after this?”

And even now, Lance’s excitement and passion is the most attractive thing about him.

“Babe,” Lance says, “they need to be perfect.”

“How is the lens cap going to help?” Keith asks, voice still teasing. He brushes a stray eyelash from Lance’s cheek, and Lance’s shoulders fall.

“Are you flirting with me? A year into our relationship?” Lance asks. Keith only adds to it but giving him another kiss. “You’re driving me nuts.”

“Am I?”

“Stop,” he whines through a laugh. “I have to find it.”

“You’re going to be late for work.”

“Keith.”

“Okay,” Keith says, dropping his hands from Lance’s face. “I think maybe Kosmo ate it.”

Lance blinks fast. “What?”

“I’m kidding. That was a bad joke,” Keith says, and Lance lets out a breath of relief, trying to smile. He’s still nervous despite, or maybe because of, Keith’s failed attempts to make him laugh.

Keith takes him by the hips and pulls him closer, and Lance rests his forehead on Keith’s shoulder. He takes a deep breath, wrapping his arms around Keith.

“The pictures are going to turn out great, with or without the lens cap,” Keith says, voice hushed. “And you’re going to blow everyone out of the water at work. But you should probably get there on time.”

“You’re right,” Lance mumbles, standing up straight. “I wish you could come with me. _You_ could intimidate people into being nice to me.”

“I wish I could, too. I couldn’t intimidate people, though. I’d just watch you work, since you’re so cute when you’re focused,” he says, and this actually makes a smile break out on Lance’s face. He pushes at Keith’s chest and shakes his head. “I have my own work to do, though.”

His commissions have finally, _finally_ extended past the _Kerberos_ fandom, and he’s hoping that he can put together a portfolio for art school within the next year. Maybe one day he’d even work in the same studio as Lance and he _could_ come to work with him.

Lance peaks up at the clock behind Keith, and his smile turns down. “Oh,” he says. “I really am going to be late if I don’t leave soon.”

“Will you help me put Kosmo’s harness on before you go?”

At the sound of his name, the husky runs circles around them. He howls, jumping up on Keith and shaking his butt and wagging his tail. This brings Lance’s smile right back.

“Yeah, of course,” he says.

Keith lifts the dog up and Lance slips the harness on. Just like the first time, and every other time after it, their hands brush. And just like the first time, Keith can’t stop his heart from racing.

“Okay, I’m out,” Lance says, and he runs around, grabbing a granola bar and popping back into Keith’s room to get his camera. Keith waits by the door while Kosmo follows Lance around, thinking he’ll be accompanying them on their impending walk.

“You better eat a good lunch,” Keith says once Lance joins him by the door.

“Says the guy who sometimes forgets to eat a single meal until I bring him dinner,” Lance says, giving him another kiss. “If you see my lens cap, feel free to drive it over to the studio because I’m still kind of freaking out.”

“Sure,” Keith laughs. “Let me know how everything goes.”

“Okay,” Lance says. His hand is on the doorknob, and he even starts to turn it, but he leans in for one more kiss goodbye. “Alright, bye.”

With that, he’s opening the door and heading off to work. Keith waves, letting out a cheery “good luck!” but he hates to see Lance go. He always does.

As he’s hooking Kosmo’s leash, a realization comes to him, and he rushes to his room to get his phone.

 

**Keith:**

> you were filming when you got here last night, so I don’t think the cap is here

> maybe it’s at your place?? Or in your car

 

Almost immediately, he gets a text from Lance with a photo of the lens cap sitting on his passenger seat.

 

**Lance:**

> thanks for putting up with me

> I love youuuuuu

 

**Keith:**

> love you more

 

**Lance:**

> not at all possible in any universe

> are we THAT couple now

 

**Keith:**

> we should probably stop being gross so you can drive

 

He’s not sure what it is but seeing the words in print hit Keith a tad bit harder than hearing them out loud did. Lance loves him, and he loves Lance. Those are now spoken facts, proven in every interaction they have.

When Lance first decided to give Keith a chance to redeem himself, there were a few months that he still seemed unsure. He’d randomly seem distant, not wanting to get hurt again, but over time Keith was able to prove he never meant to hurt Lance in the first place. And eventually, Lance really did forgive him. They were actually able to start over.

So, yeah, he hates to see Lance go. But the possibility was once that he’d be gone forever. At least now, he only has to miss him for a few hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's be friends!  
> [TWITTER](http://www.twitter.com/stephclaires)  
> [ART INSTA](http://www.instagram.com/literatidraws)  
> 


End file.
